


A Dark New World

by Calescent



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cheesy, F/M, Fluff, I couldn't resist, Vignette, fairly canon, yet another Alistair romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 31,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3570671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calescent/pseuds/Calescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klutzy naive Solona Amell wants nothing more than to pass her Harrowing and return to her books, but when fate intervenes she is recruited into the Grey Wardens just in time for the Fifth Blight. </p><p> </p><p>Vignette-ish segments of DAO. Credit for setting, characters, and just about everything goes to Bioware.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let Not Shallow Foolishness Enter

_How could sweat be cold? Sweat was from exercise and exertion. Heat. So why did she feel so cold?_

Solona’s hands were clammy, fingers not wanting to work. Her robe seemed to be stuck to her back and she wanted nothing more than to take a long bubble bath, easing away all her anxieties. That would have to wait till after though. If there was an after.

The dimly lit chamber was hardly quiet with templars in their heavy plate shifting and the hushed whispers coming from…. Where? Solona didn't know. Despite the rainbows of color streaming from the stained-glass windows, the room felt dark and oppressive. Elegant arches only served to give the space the reverence it deserved, not the serenity she need. People had died here. _Julien._ No, she couldn't think about that. She could do this. Besides, who knew what there was to discover within the Fade? It’s not like all the beings that dwelled there wanted to possess her.

Solona swallowed hard, furiously wiping her hands on the sides of her robe.

The familiar faces intermixed with shielded ones, doing little to comfort her. If anything, the blank visages of helmets gave the templars an inhuman appearance. No mercy. 

Why couldn't they just let her be? She was hardly in danger of falling prey to demons or practicing blood magic. She would just read her books and not bother anyone. A Harrowing wasn't needed.

Tripping on the edge of her robe, Solona caught herself before she fell, hands splayed like she was part of a balancing act. Well, at least now she was warm, the fire burning her face clashing with her growing shivers, serving only to make her feel like she was going to be sick. Or pass out. Hopefully not both nor at the same time. Perhaps being simply cold was better. She itched her forehead where the golden sunburst would be placed and shuddered. She had to do this. The alternative was death in all but in name. Worse than death in some ways.

The Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter started to talk to her, saying things that she already knew as she listened to the sound of her racing heart. _Calm down, Amell._ Several long moments of silence passed and it occurred to her that the assembled group was staring at her. 

A flicker of kindness passed across the First Enchanter’s withered face. “Are you ready, child?”

Solona’s throat was dry; how did swallowing work again? Could she do this? Could she face a demon? Her eyes caught the slight gleam of a sword. A swift cut through the neck and Solona Amell would be no more. A living death, or possession and death with a smidgen chance of success. She had a poor set of options.

Someone with a voice that sounded remarkably like her own finally spoke.

“I am, First Enchanter.”


	2. Both Alike in Dignity

Trying not to fall careening into the unforgiving stone walls, Solona slowly placed one foot in front of the other and then shifted her weight forward. Once she was sure that her leg was not going to shoot out from under her, she picked her back foot up and moved it in front. If she kept this pace up, she might make it to the First Enchanter’s office before sundown. Maybe.

“A…are you feeling alright, Enchanter Amell?” A soft male voice asked from somewhere ahead of her. 

Solona glanced up, taking in the sight of silver plate and curly blond hair cut short. 

“Well, hello Cullen. I am just feeling thoroughly harrowed at the moment.” She grinned at the slight joke and Cullen mimicked her expression, face turning gentle. 

“Congratulations on p…passing your Harrowing. I was there, you know.”

She thought back on the people who had been in the room. It was hard to remember anything but the fear. Her mind wandered to her possibilities of survival and turned to the dark chances. That was right; he had been there. Cullen had been holding the sword that would have slain her if she had spent too much time in the Fade or emerged an abomination.

“Would you have really killed me?” The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop herself. That was probably improper, but it was hard to imagine this man, the closest thing she had to a friend in the templar order, taking her life. 

“It would have distressed me, but I am a servant of both the Chanty and the Maker, and I will do as I am commanded,” Cullen said, shifting uneasily. 

Solona reached out to touch his arm, but the overextension of her center of gravity sent her crashing into Cullen. Her head hit his breastplate with a ‘thwack’ and she would have fallen if a pair of gauntlets hadn’t grabbed her, one slipping around her waist while the other caught hold of her hand. 

Eyes squeezed shut, Solona focused on righting the spinning world. The side of her head stung but the feel of cool metal on her fingers helped to ground her. She should sit down. Probably not in the middle of the hallway though. Irving’s beard would be quite a bit longer when she finally got to his office.

“Amell?” Cullen asked, hesitantly. 

Opening her eyes, Solona looked up. Cullen’s face was so close. She could see the prickles of fresh stubble on his cheeks. It was a good thing she didn’t have to shave, Solona decided. She would probably end up cutting off her nose. 

Maker’s breath, she was still in his arms wasn’t she? Friends, especially mage and templar friends, didn’t do this sort of thing. Solona shot out from Cullen’s arms, almost fell _again_ , but was righted by Cullen’s solid arm. 

“Sorry about that,” Solona said. Her face burned though when Cullen’s turned red as well she felt less alone in her embarrassment. “The Fade was fascinating, but books didn’t do the demons justice. Their claws could have torn me apart, and they were just too clever by far. I keep thinking that I’m going to turn a corner, see a friend but they are going to turn around and be a demon.”

She looked down at her hand in his, it was shaking slightly. “Do you have duty in the library this evening?”

Cullen’s eyebrows knit together, his eyes on her. The color on his cheeks was fading. “What? Why do you ask that?”

“I think it has something to do with you being covered in protective metal -much more solid than cloth- but I feel safer with you around. If you were in the library tonight, perhaps I wouldn’t worry about a demon coming and burying me in books.”

“A…are you suggesting?...I mean…well, I…,” Cullen’s words didn’t seem to be going anywhere. He looked away, took a steadying breath, and let go of her hand. “I will be there.”

Solona felt a smile light her face, spreading strength throughout her body. “Thank you, Cullen. You’re a good friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not very important plot-wise, but it's Cullen so hopefully all is forgiven.


	3. Ambition's Debt is Paid

_How could have it ended this badly?_

Solona stared at the puddle of blood on the floor. It wasn’t large, but it took up her entire vision. The world had recentered itself around this small amount liquid. Her heart was heavy, each beat sending fresh pain through her chest. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. The future had seemed so bright… How could this have happened?

Low voices talked, yelled, and then talked again in the background. Solona couldn’t force herself to pay attention to them. Her hands were cold against the stone floor, her robe covered in dust. The blood had ceased spreading and now was only an arm’s length away. Solona slowly moved to a sitting position and rested her head against her knees, Jowan’s snarl echoing through her head. _“How could you?”_

His anguish and anger were such a juxtaposition to his earlier hopeful happiness that she wondered how her heart didn’t rip in two. The way that he had looked at Lily was how she had always pictured the story-book kind of love. Jowan, one of her best friends, deserved that kind of happiness, but what did he have now? 

It was all her fault.

“Solona,” First Enchanter Irving said. She raised her head, looking at him. For the first time that she could remember, the First Enchanter’s appearance didn’t reassure her, giving her the confidence that everything would be alright. 

Betrayal. That was the only way she could think to describe it. She had come to him for help and he had brought the templars into it. 

“Stand, child.”

Barely aware of her movements, Solona got to her feet, staring intently at the First Enchanter’s chin. It was hidden amidst a graying bread but it was determined.

“She should be punished,” Knight-Commander Greagoir insisted. 

“She did this under my orders,” Irving said patiently. He had been repeating this lie over and over to the Knight-Commander while she sat there, Solona realized. Why would he claim such a thing?

“Just because she is a favorite of yours doesn’t mean she is above the rules,” Greagoir said, cheeks tinged red.

“Perhaps I can help,” the Grey Warden, Duncan, said. He had been here this entire time, hadn’t he? Solona found herself lost in his dark eyes when he glanced at her. His appearance was gruff but the eyes… they spoke of something else. “I am not only here for mages to help with the fight, but I am also looking for potential Grey Wardens. The First Enchanter has told me good things about Amell, I could use someone like her.”

Greagoir objected, but Irving considered it. They argued, Duncan standing calmly between them, the image of the mysterious order. Shortly, her fate was sealed. She would become a Grey Warden.


	4. Over Hill, Over Dale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus begins the slapstick humor. You've been warned.

Memories of dark looks and darker whispers from her fellow mages faded with the sunshine. Solona raised her arms up, staring at the white clouds that swam across the azure sky.

“Hey now! Don’t rock the boat!” 

The templar ferrying them across Lake Calenhad struggled to keep the boat steady as she leaned to the side, looking down through the endless blue-black water. She knew the lake was deep but the peerless depths of liquid could have hidden several Circle towers away from seeking eyes. What was at the bottom? Did strange creatures lurk there?

It had been so long since she had been outdoors, she had almost forgotten what it was like. She would walk on grass again, perhaps even roll in it. All the things that she had read about… they were right in front of her. There would be no templars looking over her shoulder, and no constant search for a quiet place to read and think. 

She was free.

She took one final look behind her, the tower a knife cutting into the sky. It was less intimidating from a distance. Would she ever return? Did she even want to?

As they entered the shadow of the long-broken bridge, Solona smiled. Perhaps this Warden thing wouldn’t be so bad. 

Two days later, Solona remembered the cramped apprentices’ quarters, and templars’ stares with fondness. Every part of her hurt. Blisters had formed on various spots after the first day, her pack seemed to be growing invisible rocks and she was seriously considering peeling her skin off to relieve the sensation of dirt, sunburn, and mosquito bites. To add some internal misery to the mix, she was pretty sure that Duncan wished he had left her to face the wrath of the templars. 

After peppering the Grey Warden for most of the day with near-constant questions about himself and his order, she had ruined their dinner, put out the fire, burned her hands, and soaked the Warden’s boots by dropping a pan of water. Her attempts to keep the fire going, build a tent, or even wash the dishes had all ended in disaster. In her excitement to see what was beyond the top of one hill, she had gotten her staff stuck in a crevice, bashing her head into the unyielding wood. The resulting multiplication of the landscape had forced them to spend part of the day resting. Solona would have sworn she heard one of the three Duncans sigh, but since she couldn’t figure out which one, she didn’t comment on it. 

But the worst part of leaving the Circle was the lack of books.

Reading had always been an escape. A mismanaged spell or confrontation with a fellow apprentice would be resolved with her sitting in some dusty corner of the tower, head in a book. She had learned so much about the outside world from her time spent reading. Any stress or anguish could be easily washed away with a few lines of text. 

Here on the road, actually in the world she had read about, she was on her own. No leather-bound friends or sweep of ink across a page to lure her into a sense that everything in the world was how it should be. 

That night, staring up at the stars and trying to match her memories of charts with what she was seeing, Solona heard Duncan settle down on the other side of the fire. He had particular ritual before he went to sleep for the night, searching the area and setting traps. It was comforting in a way, the consistency. No matter the location of their camp, Duncan would do the same thing. 

Solona itched a grotesquely large mosquito bite on her left forearm. 

“Duncan, can I ask you a question?”

The Warden laughed softly. “I doubt anything I could say would stop you. What is on your mind, Solona?”

“Is it worth it?” Solona asked. “Becoming a Warden, I mean. Do you ever regret it?”

Duncan was silent for a long moment. The embers of their fire crackled. Had he fallen asleep?

“I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t become a Warden,” Duncan said finally. “But I know that I would not have liked the person I would have been. The Grey Wardens have a duty, one that extends past the borders of nations, races, or even religions. The Blights must be stopped. There are few causes greater.”

Solona thought about that for a long time until the stars overhead blurred and she fell asleep.


	5. Kingdom's Greatest Defense

For being a derelict fortress, Ostagar was impressive. Solona was just starting to think that she knew what the world had to offer and then they come upon this… Solona couldn’t think of the right word for it. Monstrosity? Vision of past grandioseness? Temple to the imposing sky?

The large stone structure took up so much of Solona’s attention she didn’t see the army until she was tripping over it. 

First, she fell over a supply crate. 

Then, while admiring how tall the fortress was, she wandered into a campsite, singeing the edge of her robes on a fire pit. The soldiers gave her odd looks as she apologized repeatedly, backing away. That’s when she took down a tent. Duncan found her getting scolded by quartermaster and with a few words, two of them being Grey Warden, got her away from the clipboard wielding matriarch. 

That’s when Duncan insisted she keep her gaze firmly fixed forward and walk next to him. Solona readily agreed, face hot. Duncan's next words distracted her.

“It looks like the king has come to greet us.”

“The king? King Cailan?” Solona repeated.

“King Cailan is very fond of Grey Wardens. He has taken a special interest in helping us end the Blight.”

Solona looked ahead at the small party of men gathered. It was easy to tell which one of them was the king. He was a handsome man with blond hair, brown eyes, and the strong features she had decided were typical of Ferelden men. 

The king greeted Duncan warmly and the two men started talking. Solona knew she probably be paying attention to what was being said but she couldn’t get over the fact that she was standing this close to a king. If she fell, she would be able to touch him. _Bad idea._ If Duncan hadn’t regretted bringing her along before, making a fool of herself and him in front of the King of Ferelden would probably do it. _Let’s stay away from the king then._

“…recruit I’ve heard the Grey Wardens talking about,” The king was saying. He and Duncan looked to her and Solona blinked. What did she miss? Was she supposed to say something?

“I’m sorry, your Majesty,” She said, attempting a curtsey. Her knee cracked. “I was distracted by your… kingliness.” _Well, that didn’t come out right._

King Cailan laughed, an honest sound. This was a good man. 

“I hope that won’t stop you from killing darkspawn. I intend to fight the darkspawn horde with the Grey Wardens at my side. It will be a tale for the ages,” the king smiled. “But I hear you are a mage. I have always wondered what a Circle was like; my advisors told me that it wouldn’t be proper to check up on my subjects when they are under Chanty authority. If Duncan can spare you, I would love it if you can to talk to me in my tent about your experiences.”

“I apologize your Majesty,” Duncan interjected. “Solona and the other recruits still need to go through the Joining.”

“Ah, yes. The mysterious Joining. Some other time then.” King Calian turned, dismissing them with a wave. He had only gone a few steps before he called out over his shoulder. “Don’t forget about the strategy meeting tomorrow evening, Duncan. I would like to see you and your newest recruit there.” With that, the king left.

Duncan sighed, and Solona eyed him curiously. 

“Are you alright?”

“King Calian is a good man, but he does not take the darkspawn threat as seriously as he should,” Duncan said, rubbing his forehead. “We have yet to see the archdemon, but I know it’s out there. This is only going to get worse.”

The Warden looked off into the distance. Solona followed his gaze. It was an impressive view, all sweeping lines, large trees, and strong rock formations. But there was nothing in particular he would be staring at. 

“There’s a few more things we need to go over before I let you have some free time but before I forget, don’t go to the king’s tent. Gray Wardens are supposed to stay outside politics and Cailan seems to want to have a more than a simple conversation with you. Getting involved with him will only cause trouble.”

Get involved? What did he mean by that? Solona stared at Duncan for a long moment before it clicked. _Oh._


	6. To be a Virtuous and Well-Govern'd Youth

Alistair…Alistair… Where was this Alistair supposed to be again? It was getting late and Solona doubted that Duncan had meant for her to spend the entire day exploring the camp.

But it wasn’t her fault the camp was full of interesting things! She was in an ancient fortress that held people that she had never imagined actually meeting, like the Ash Warriors and the Hero of River Dane. She had met the two other Warden recruits, both who seemed like nice enough men if a bit uneasy with her being a mage. Not to mention the fact that she got to touch a mabari. The Kennel master had told her she had a way with animals after she had slipped a muzzle on the sick creature. 

Solona laughed to herself, looking around for a blond Warden. The only animals she had ever met before leaving the tower were mice and Ander’s cat. Maybe she would tame a griffin next. 

“Your glibness isn’t helping this situation,” a slightly familiar male voice said loudly. 

“Aw, and here I thought we were getting along so well. I was even going to name one of my children after you. The grumpy one,” another male answered, a smile in his voice.

Like a child drawn to a shiny object, Solona climbed the ramps towards the voices. Someone cursed and Solona was just in time to see a mage stomp past her. He was one of the Senior Enchanters of the tower but his name slide around her mind, refusing to be pinned. She curtsied but the Senior Enchanter didn’t seem to notice, his back was stiff with indignation.

She looked up at the man the Enchanter had been talking to. Blond hair, young, handsome, he didn’t seem like the average soldier. In fact, he looked a bit like King Cailan. Their features were similar, but that was probably just the Ferelden man thing again. Perhaps this was the long-searched-for Alistair.

“The one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together,” the man commented, laughing. Solona smiled. At least he had a sense of humor. 

“I’ve never seen so many people in one place.”

“Maybe if we all joined hands and sang, the darkspawn would just back down.”

“That would be one for the history books,” Solona agreed. “Who knew we could stop a potential Blight with a singing session?”

“We won’t be Grey Wardens anymore. It’ll be ‘Tenor Alistair and Baritone Duncan, there is an ogre coming. Harmonize!’ They’ll flee at our major chords.”

Solona laughed. If this man was a Grey Warden she had misjudged the order. The histories and first-hand accounts made them sound so serious, self-righteous in their quest to prevent Blights. _This isn’t a history book,_ she reminded herself. _People are different off the page._ It was a thought that she would have to remember. 

“But we haven’t introduced ourselves. My name is Alistair, junior member of the Grey Wardens. Are you a mage from the Circle?”

“Yes. How could you tell?” Were mages that easy to spot from the non-mages? No wonder Anders kept getting caught.

Alistair gave her a look and a smile. “The combination of staff and robes kind of gives it away,” he said, not unkindly.

Solona looked down at herself. _Opps._ Her face grew hot. “I suppose that was a silly question. I haven’t been out of the Circle long. Almost all the people I knew before a few weeks ago were mages or templars, it’s strange to think that we dress differently from others.” She was rambling. “But you probably already realized that. Duncan mentioned that you received some templar training.”

“Duncan? How would you…” Alistair said and blinked. “You must be the new recruit Duncan mentioned. The mage. I am embarrassed for not realized it sooner; he spoke very highly of you.”

Solona was pretty sure she hadn’t done enough to make a good impression, but it was nice of Alistair to say so. “Yes, I’m Solona.”

“Solona. It is nice to meet you. Now, we should probably go find Duncan before he sends out a mabari search party. Last thing I need is to be covered in dog slobber.”


	7. Wandering in the Wilds

Alistair wasn’t sure what to make of the newest recruit. Daveth was a bit too rash and Ser Jory was a bit too cautious, but at least they looked as if they could hold their own in a fight. The thin, brown-haired mage Duncan had found barely came up to his chin and seemed to have trouble staying on her feet. But she didn’t hesitate in healing the injured scout they had found, something he had to give her some credit for.

A sharp shout and a splash pulled Alistair’s attention to his charge. Solona had fallen into the swamp. Daveth started laughing, and Ser Jory moved forward to help the mage out of the water. She was covered in mud, robe clutching at her slight curves, and she was grinning. Holding out a plant she beamed at the three men. “I have never see anything like this. What do you think it’s called?”

“A plant,” Daveth answered from where he was scouting ahead. Solona laughed, a clear, innocent sound, and put her find into her pack. Alistair would have to make sure she didn’t put anything edible in there. Who knew what kind of substances were being rubbed into the leather?

Alistair closed his eyes, feeling a small group of darkspawn get closer. They still had a while before the darkspawn would be visual.He opened his eyes again. Solona was chatting happily with a grinning Daveth who did little to hide the fact he was eyeing her form. Alistair sighed. Did his job as babysitter include protecting the recruits from each other? 

Fishing in his pack for a moment, Alistair pulled out his spare cloak which he handed to the mage. She thanked him, brown eyes sincere. 

“It’s no royal robe, but it will have to do,” Alistair found himself saying. “But we have darkspawn to the north and we still need to find that old Warden base. Let’s keep going.”

Despite the fact she started visibly shivering, the mage spent her time divided between interrogating her fellow recruits and chasing after anything that caught her interest. The small pack she had brought was soon brimming with plants and rocks. Alistair wasn’t sure what she found so interesting about them but every time she showed him a particular green weed, beaming with unsuppressed delight, he would return her smile. It was hard not to replicate her enthusiasm. 

He felt the darkspawn getting close and alerted the recruits.

They came in a rush, gruesome faces twisted into snarls as they charged. Alistair and Ser Jory immediately moved to the front of their small party, metal armor giving them greater protection from the attack than Daveth’s leathers or Solona’s robes. 

“Maker protect us!” Ser Jory yelled as his greatsword clashed with a darkspawn blade. Alistair saw, pleasantly surprised, that the knight was holding his own against the swarm of enemies. Duncan had mentioned something about a Grand Tourney. 

Alistair turned, raising his shield to block the attack of a genlock. The creature growled at him, jerking his sword out of the wood. Alistair’s blade met his for a flurry of blows before sinking into the darkspawn’s throat. 

A feminine squeak had him turning. He had forgotten all about the mage! She stood behind them, clutching at her staff with white knuckles. Alistair darted towards her, shield ready to cover them from any arrows. 

“If you don’t keep moving, dear lady, you’ll offer the darkspawn a tempting prize,” Alistair said before following her gaze to a mass of dark… something near her. A trail of smoke floated off of it. What was that? 

A henlock. 

Solona yelped, eyes wide and Alistair whirled around, sword raised. A darkspawn was charging at them. Alistair dug in his heels, but before he could act, the hairs on the back of his neck rose and white lightning shot by him, striking the creature in its chest. The darkspawn was lifted off the ground and flung a length from the force of the blast before hitting the ground with a final sounding thunk. 

Templar instincts that had been trained into Alistair rose from the grave, and he clenched his hands into fists to keep himself from striking the newest recruit with a cleansing. From the corner of his eye, he could see Solona shaking, staff pointed in the direction of the dead genlock.

_Perhaps Duncan didn't pick her for equality reasons after all._


	8. Of Bloody and Unnatural Acts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are becoming less and less like vignettes...

For the second time in so many weeks Solona found herself staring at puddles of blood, her world shifting on its axis. 

Jory and Daveth were dead.

She couldn’t quite believe it. She had never seen anyone… die before. Now she had seen two people, who she had already considered friends, die horribly. This was not something she had wanted to experience when she left the tower. Wrapping her arms around herself, she began to tremble.

Duncan pulled the sword out of Jory’s body, wiping the blade on the knight’s tunic. Turning back to Solona, he took the cup Alistair had been holding. “You must drink, child,” Duncan commanded. “Become a Grey Warden.”

What choice did she have?

With a deep breath, Solona accepted the chalice of darkspawn blood. She could feel the magic in the tainted liquid, swirling amidst the maroon hues as she shook. It was like the Harrowing all over again. Refuse and die, or drink and probably die. She really had to stop getting into these situations. Her chances of surviving had to be getting less. 

Before she could think any more on the subject, she tossed her head back, drinking the foul substance. It was strangely thick of her tongue. Someone took the cup from her hand, and Solona felt herself sway. The Wardens in front of her faded only to be replaced by creatures flashing before her eyes faster than she could process. A dragon yelled its rage to a green-black sky and it all went dark.

It was a strain to open her eyes up again. Colors spun and merged into the concerned faces of Alistair and Duncan. They stepped back as she sat up. _Oh, bad idea._ Someone was pounding a drum in her skull and she could scarcely move her tongue it felt so swollen. Her stomach heaved and she turned to her side, coughing. Nothing came up, but she spat into the dirt, trying to get rid of the taste of blood. 

“Solona? How do you feel?” Alistair asked, crouching next to her.

What could she say to that? She wasn’t ready to make a fool of herself in front of any kings, but she was better than Daveth and Jory.

“I am… alive.”

“Alive and a full Grey Warden. You passed your Joining.” Duncan said a few more things, but once again Solona couldn’t focus. Darkspawn shrieks and her companions’ faces as they died filled her mind. When she looked back up, Duncan was gone. Alistair stood nearby, arms crossed behind his back. _Like a templar._

She must have made some sort of sound because Alistair shifted to face her, eyes sad. “Only one of us died during my Joining, but it was still… difficult." He held out his hand. Solona took it and he pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get out of here.”

Not waiting for her to agree, Alistair guided her away from the cooling bodies of Ser Jory and Daveth. He was still holding her hand. Solona allowed herself to focus on that instead of what she was leaving behind. His fingers were strong and callused from years with a sword. They gripped her hand firmly yet still gently enough that it didn’t cause her any pain. _A good man._

Solona stared down at her feet as she was led across dirt and patches of grass. They climbed an incline plane of cut stone, stepped over a flat surface of the same material, and stopped. Glancing up from dirt stained edge of her robe, Solona froze.

She stood at the edge of the world.

The sweeping landscape lay in front of her, tall green trees contrasting against a terrain that wanted to be barren. Hills dared to be more than they were, cutting themselves into majestic silhouettes. Now this was the land she had read about.

“Careful, I might need that hand when we fight the darkspawn.”

Solona realized that she had been gripping Alistair’s hand tightly and let go.

“I’m so sorry!” She said, taking a step back. Her heel hit something and her arms flailed as she struggled to keep her balance. Alistair’s eyes went wide and he grabbed her arm, reeling her back.

“On second thought, how about I keep a hold of you? You don’t seem to be the steadiest right now. You passed your Joining, you can’t die by falling off a cliff. That would just be embarrassing.”

Solona felt herself smile. A cool breeze blew by them and she drew herself closer to Alistair. She felt safe next to him. _Maybe it really is a man in armor thing._ Closing her eyes, Solona rested her forehead against the Warden’s arm, gut twisting. She had the feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time she saw a friend die. 


	9. But Screw Your Courage to the Sticking-Place, and We'll Not Fail

Men screamed as they fought. Something roared. White lights flashed.

_Big rock!_

Stone cracked and she lost her balance.

_Keep moving! Where’s Alistair? Ah, there. Go!_

Her palms hurt as she climbed to her feet. People shouted orders and archers fired down at the horde below, bows twanging. Solona ran by it all, focused on not tripping. They needed to get to the tower. She avoided a—

_Don’t think about it. Not now. Just keep going!_

A tall tower stretched above the chaos with men- _not enemies!_ \- running towards them. Alistair cursed. Their party grew as some soldiers joined them, passing small groups of men fighting darkspawn. 

Stairs and darkness. Solona created a light and sent it above their heads. Impossibly shaped creatures came at them. She cast spells quickly. 

More stairs and fighting. She was getting tired. 

_That soldier is faltering. Heal and regenerate._

A darkspawn thrust a dagger through a man’s chest. 

_Heal! No, it’s too… I can’t… More lightning!_

Her legs ached and she could hear the men around her breathing hard. They were almost there now. 

_Alistair is fine. Soldier 1 fine. 2 is not fine but will make it without for a while longer… I need some lyrium… Are those drums? Here? No… Just my heartbeat… That archer looks like he’s in pain. Heal._

The final floor. They had made it. There was the signal fire. They just needed to—

Something large loomed over them.

_So that’s an ogre. I didn’t they would be quite so big. Look at those horns, I wonder if they are related to the Qunari. Maybe I could ask… that’s probably rude._

It charged and bones cracked. 

_Lightning! Slow! Heal! It’s not… Please no! Alistair! Heal! Stonefist!_

An impossible leap and Alistair had toppled the ogre, sword spearing through its chest. For a brief moment there was silence. 

Solona sagged, tiredness hitting her like a thunderclap. One of the soldiers that had been with them moved to support her and she leaned on his shoulders, smiling at him gratefully. He gave her a small smile in return, tired but proud. 

Alistair lit the signal and as the fire roared to life, several members of their small party cheered. They had done it. Solona closed her eyes, feeling like she was about to collapse. She should find a different place but her limbs were refusing to move. 

The thud of feet had her opening her eyes as more darkspawn streamed into the room.

_Andraste, no…_

An arrow hit the soldier she was leaning on in the chest, sending them both to the floor. Solona cried out, rolling away. She sat up, crawling over to the soldier. Blank eyes stared up from a face that couldn’t have been that much older than her. 

“Solona!” Alistair yelled. 

She looked up to see a hurlock coming straight for her. _Where was her staff?_

Her eyes caught sight of it laying amidst the trample of men and beast. Solona threw herself to the side as the darkspawn struck at her. An ill-cast fire spell blasted away the hurlock.

_Her hands… they hurt…_

Solona crawled across the floor, bumping into everything. Something kicked her side and she went sprawling. Her hand closed around smooth wood and she was on her feet. Magic warped around her as she screamed. 

Cool pain blossomed from her chest and she fell. Grey noise filled her ears and the swirl of colors that was her vision followed suit.

Then there was nothing.


	10. Maker, Give Them Wisdom That Have It

The outside world was destroying her. All those years of craving silence and now that desire was ruined. If she had to spend another day in quiet contemplation, she’d… _What would she do?_

No one had spoken since they broke camp. Though even by Solona’s standards, camp was relative term. She and Alistair had next to nothing in the way of gear; Flemeth had grabbed only them, the clothes on their backs, and their weapons. The Witch of the Wilds had little in the way of tents, but she provided them with several worn blankets. 

But it was Alistair that really worried her. Since leaving Flemeth’s hut, he had scarcely talked. If he was handed food, he would eat it. Given a pair of sticks, he would start a fire. But he wouldn’t say a word. 

She was in the midst of deciding whether or not to sing a song to break up the monotony of travel when she heard barking. 

Solona glanced at Morrigan. The apostate met her eyes, “No, you are not going mad. I hear it too.”

A short figure raced towards them. The two mages gripped their staves. Alistair didn’t move. 

It was a dog.

Solona instinctively bent down to its level. The dog skidded to a stop in front of her, tongue dangling. 

“Well, hello. Are you from Ostagard? I’m happy to see someone else survived.”

The dog barked happily. Solona laughed, scratching his head.

“She is talking to a dog,” Morrigan muttered. 

“What happened to your master? Wait, are you the one I got the herb for?” She turned to Alistair. “Look! He got better.” She itched the dog’s chin and grinned as the tail started to wag. 

“Would you like to travel with us? I can’t promise it won’t be dangerous, but I will scratch your belly every day and let you chase all the rabbits you want.”

The dog turned his head, as if considering it. He barked once, almost smiling. 

“Do you really want this drooling monster with us?” Morrigan asked, eyeing the dog skeptically.

“He is not a monster. He is wardog,” Solona said. “And since I don’t know your name, how about I give you one? What do you think of… Archon?”

Morrigan laughed at that and the dog wagged his tail. 

“Archon it is then. Ugh!” Solona was bowled over as Archon covered her in kisses. “Hey… you…” Solona laughed and head on the ground, she could see Alistair looking down at her. The corner of his lip twisted upwards and Solona’s own smile grew as a great weight lifted from her chest. 


	11. If We Shadows Have Offended

Darkspawn swarmed, killing freely. Children died and mothers screamed, only to follow their offspring a moment later. 

The scene shifted and she was in a large cavern. Masses of darkspawn marched past her. There were thousands, no, tens of thousands of them. Above it all a dragon watched, calculating. She could feel its cold intelligence. The archdemon. 

The dragon spoke, saying words that she could almost understand. If she just focused a bit more… Wait… The archdemon turned its head and looked directly at her. Terror froze Solona. She wasn’t actually here, was she? How could it see her? The dragon roared at her, large teeth flashing in the dim light. _Nononono!_ Opening its jaws, the archdemon blasted of red-hot fire at her.

Solona jolted up, her heart echoing in her head. Where was she? She blinked a few times. A campfire. She was…somewhere. But she was at camp. Her heart slowed and that was when the tremors began. 

“Bad dreams?” Alistair asked. Solona raised her head. The Warden was sitting by the fire. It looked like he hadn’t been sleeping. 

“It felt so real,” Solona whispered, staring back down at her hands clenched in her blankets.

“That’s because they are.” Solona’s limbs stiffened. “The Joining connects us with the darkspawn. We can sense them, and they can sense us. When the archdemon talks to the horde, we can hear it too.”

Solona didn’t know how to take this information. She knew they were in a Blight but to actually see the darkspawn horde and to feel the commands of the archdemon… that was something else entirely.

“Am I going to have these dreams often?” The words left her mouth before she realized she was talking.

“They come and go. Apparently they are worse for Wardens created during a Blight.” Alistair’s eyes turned sympathetic. “Eventually you will be able to block them out. Anyhow, when I heard you thrashing around, I thought I should tell you. It was scary at first for me too.”

“Thank you, Alistair.”

Alistair smiled sadly. “That’s what I’m here for. To give bad news and eat all the cheese. You should try to get back to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow. Well, every day is long so perhaps it’s just a Tuesday.”

Solona laid back down but after a few moments knew sleep was impossible. She had felt the same way the night before her Harrowing. Sitting back up she glanced around to see where her companions were at. Morrigan as usual slept at her own fire some distance away. Sten was sitting…sleeping…brooding….something, a dark outline in the shadows. Leliana was wrapped up in a blanket nearby. Archon was… well, she didn’t know where the mabari was most of the time, but he always seemed to turn up for meals and fights. Alistair was still sitting by the fire, expression distant. Solona considered it for a second then, wrapping one of her blankets around her shoulders, crept over to him. 

“Mind if I join you?” She asked.

Alistair shook his head and she sat down next to him, curling her legs beneath her. For a while, neither of them spoke, simply watching the crackling fire. Alistair added another log to the flames and sighed. He looked tired. Solona had been so happy that he started talking again when they got to Lothering, but he still wore that inner weariness that bespoke his pain. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Her fellow Warden looked at her, not understanding.

“Duncan, I mean. I may not be the best with words, but I am a pretty good listener. I… I don’t want to you to feel alone.”

“You, you don’t have to do that. Thank you, but I know you didn’t know him very long.” Alistair spoke softly, watching the embers intensely. 

“He was a good man. He got me away from the Circle so I wouldn’t have to pay for my mistakes. He didn’t deserve to… go… like that.”

Alistair laughed, a bitter sound. “He did like to rescue people. He saved me from a life in the templars, giving me a purpose. You know, Duncan warned me from the beginning that a Warden’s life is rarely long. I should have handled it better. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Everyone goes through grief in their own way. Just… well… I’m here for you. I said that already, didn’t I… Sorry, I’m bad at these kind of things.” Solona gathered up her courage and wrapped her arms around Alistair in an awkward hug. He didn’t respond for an endless moment then slowly hugged her back. He sighed and she could feel some tension drain out of him. Her heart hurt for him- _if only she could take away his pain_ -but she hoped she helped. 

He let go first and they disentangled themselves, Solona suddenly realizing she was a girl, he was a boy, and they were being physical. Her sudden heat had nothing to do with the fire next to them. 

“I should probably try and sleep. Long day, as you said.” Solona wasn’t quite sure what she was saying anymore. She stood, preparing to go back to her bedroll when Alistair spoke. 

“Thank you, Solona. I’m glad you’re here.”

Solona smiled at him, step a bit lighter, and went back to her blankets. This time, she fell asleep right away.


	12. What's in a Name?

“There is something I should tell you before we get to Redcliffe. I probably should have told you a while go, but it was never the right time and well… yeah.”

Solona stopped next to Alistair. They were close to Redcliffe, she could see the castle peeking over a hill. Soon they would have real beds, a decent meal, and perhaps she could get rid of the second skin of dirt that was beginning to form over her entire body. The others had taken to bathing in rivers but she didn’t have the courage to do more than wash her hair, face, and hands in the cold water.

“Is something the matter?” She asked.

“No. And yes. I don’t know. I’m not sure how you will react and it’s kind of important so maybe I should stop rambling and just say it.” He took a breath and told her.

Solona didn’t know what to say. She stared at him, emotions and thoughts flickering through her head. _Well, that would explain the similarities in appearance._

“So you are not just a fool, you’re a royal fool,” Morrigan summarized. "That could be useful." 

“What? No! It’s just my father, who I’ve never met. It’s not like it really matters, but it will probably come up and I didn’t want you to be surprised.”

“Now that the king is dead, wouldn’t that make you the next logical choice for the throne?” Leliana asked, her soft Orlesian accent turning the words into a song. 

Alistair gritted his teeth. “I have no intention of taking the throne. Anora can keep it for all I care. From what I’ve heard she was basically running the country anyways.” He looked over their small party then focused on Solona. “This doesn’t change anything. I am a Grey Warden, first and foremost.”

Solona couldn’t met his eyes, though his gaze was a weight on her shoulders. He had the Theirin blood in his veins. The blood that had freed Ferelden from outside authority. The son of King Maric… She suddenly felt insignificant. She didn’t even remember her parents. She was a nobody mage traveling with royalty. 

“Should we call you your Highness?” She asked, barely managing to get the question out. She gripped her robes, staring at her muddy boots. _Royalty._

“No! Please, I am just a bastard. Just call me Alistair or fool or whatever. Who my father is doesn’t change anything.”

“We cannot chose the path set in front of us. We take it up or we die. There are no other option,” Sten commented. 

“Well, I am choosing this one. I will not be involved in some political scheme. Solona… please…” Strong hands grabbed her own and she finally looked up. His brown eyes pleaded with her to understand. She closed her eyes. Nothing had changed, not really. It only felt like it. Alistair was still Alistair. She just knew more about him. 

_I can’t believe that._

But she had to try. For Alistair’s sake. 

“Just Alistair then?” She asked, trying to force her lips into a smile.

His returning grin of relief turned her smile into a more natural one. 

“Just Alistair.”


	13. The Direful Spectacle of the Wreck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While the game, for obvious reasons, makes all decisions your choice, I always liked the idea that things were a bit more democratic.

The last undead creature fell and their party let out a collective sigh of relief. 

“I must say, traveling with you Wardens certainly isn’t boring,” Leliana said, sheathing her dagger. Solona was consistently amazed with the skills of the Chanty sister. She seemed to transition from bow to blade easily, deadly with both.

“Give it some time,” Alistair suggested. “Soon undead rising every night and demonic possession will be yawnfest.”

Staring into one of the cells down the hall, Morrigan said, “Well, look at this. A mage in a cage. Highly original.” 

Solona and the rest of their party walked up to join her, Archon sniffing the dead undead corpses. 

The mage was dirty, dark hair plastered to his pale face. Blood matted his robes, and the stench coming from the prison twisted Solona’s gut.

“Solona?” The mage spoke, staring at her. 

She froze. _It couldn’t be._

“Jowan? Is that you?

“You know him?” Leliana asked, eyeing the battered mage. 

“He… We…” Solona couldn’t think of what to say. _Jowan was alive._ Not well, perhaps, but alive. “We were friends back in the Circle.”

Jowan laughed, but it shortly turned into a wheezing cough. “I like to think we are still friends, despite everything.”

Solona’s stomach jumped off a cliff and smashed into the pointed rocks below. She blinked furiously. “You don’t hate me?”

“I’m not going to lie. I did at first. But we’ve been friends for a long time, Solona. I know you would never knowingly betray me. It was Irving and those templars that are at fault for what happened,” Jowan said, voice turning bitter at the end. 

Solona looked away, trying not to cry. Jowan didn’t hate her. She had never expected that from him. She deserved so much worse.

“Even if you two knew each other, that doesn’t explain how a Circle mage ended up imprisoned underneath Redcliffe castle while demons and undead lurk,” Morrigan said. 

“It’s not my fault!” Jowan exclaimed. He proceeded to describe what had happened. Solona’s previous relief vanished. _Oh Jowan…_

Their party was silent as they absorbed this information. Alistair made a little motion and they moved away from the cell, Solona glancing back at Jowan. 

“So, we have a confessed blood mage who may have been the one who caused this whole mess. What do we do with him?” Alistair asked.

“I say he could still be of use to us. If not, we should let him go,” Morrigan said.

“Let him go? After all that he has done, are you mad witch?”

Morrigan cross her arms over her chest. “You have asked for my opinion, and I have given it. There is no need to be cross when 'tis not what you wanted to hear.”

Alistair sighed. “Fine. Anyone else?”

“We should let him redeem himself. Everyone deserves that,” Leliana said, blue eyes flashing. Solona smiled at the sister’s passion. _Perhaps the Maker did bring her to us._

“He has admitted his guilt. He should be punished,” Sten said, low voice cold. 

Alistair rubbed his forehead. “I still can’t believe we are even discussing what to do with a blood mage. Solona, you know him best, what do you think?”

Solona looked at her once friend. The dark-haired mage stared at the ground, desperation etched onto his face. Her eyes trailed to the blood staining his robes and her inner wariness hardened. “Jowan is a friend. If he wants to help Redcliffe, I see no reason to stop him.”

The ex-templar stared at her and at the rest of the party. He had been outvoted. “Fine,” he said, gritting his teeth. “The blood mage goes free. But if you think for one moment I am going to let him walk behind me, Archon will be leading our singing session tonight.”


	14. Dispute Not with Her: She is Magical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a transitional chapter. But a heads up, many of the previous chapters were about the 'New' aspect of the title. Now we get more of the first adjective.

She was back a lot sooner than she had expected. When she left, she thought it would be years till she saw the Circle again, not less than three months. It still looked the same, which shouldn’t have been surprising, but so much had happened to her that it felt like her old home should have changed as well. 

However, once they were inside, it was clear the Circle was no longer the same. 

Templars were everywhere. Some were injuried, some were leaning against the wall, and all were angry. Solona resisted the urge to hold her staff tightly to her chest. It was useless here. 

Knight-Commander Greagoir didn’t seem happy to see her. He lightened up when he found out Alistair was an ex-templar and in short terse words, explained what had happened. 

Solona felt dizzy and Leliana grabbed her arm to steady her. _They were… The Right of Annulment…_ Alistair almost seemed accepting of it. Luckily Leliana stepped in.

“You are just going to let innocents, children and apprentices, die on the chance that they might be possessed? That’s barbaric!”

“It is necessary,” Greagoir said, downcast face resolute. “We cannot let an abomination live. The Circle has fallen.”

“Knight-Commander,” Solona said. He looked at her, making her forgot what she was going to say. _Finn, Elene, and all the rest… She couldn’t let them die!_ “What if we went in to find mages who haven’t been possessed? I can’t believe everyone is lost to us.”

To her surprise, Greagoir’s face softened. “Warden Amell, your kind heart is going to get you and everyone around you killed or hurt, just like it did Jowan and Lily. The Circle is gone. It would be better if you went elsewhere for allies, you will find none here.”

Solona stared at the Knight-Commander. _He looked so tired._ Pity welled up. This was a man burdened by a harsh duty. It didn’t make him right, but he was doing what he felt like he had to do. 

“These are my friends, Knight-Commander. I can’t abandon them,” Solona said softly. 

Greagoir looked at her for a long moment then nodded. “Fine. But I must tell you, once you pass the main doors, I won’t let you back in. Not until the First Enchanter stands before me and tells me the tower is safe.”

“And if the First Enchanter no longer lives?” Leliana asked.

Greagoir swept his eyes over them, every inch a templar. “Then the Maker protect you all.”


	15. Let Me Not Name It to You, the Stars. Yet the Mages Must Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark

Solona had seen friends lying in pools of blood, teachers wearing the faces of demons, and proud templars chained to the will of creatures of the Fade, but she had yet to shed a tear. She couldn’t. If she cried, she wouldn’t be able to stop.

That was until she saw Cullen. 

He was exhausted, the bags underneath his eyes large and black. Her throat made some high-pitched noise when she recognized him and she rushed forward, hands splayed out over the barrier around him.

“Cullen!”

The templar looked up and his face ripped her apart.

“This trick again? It won’t work. You won’t… break me.” His words came out through gritted teeth and he dropped to his knees. 

“Cullen,” Solona said softly. “I’m here.”

“I know what you are!” Cullen yelled. “Demon! How far you have gone into my thoughts to use her against me? Get out of my head! Tempting me with the one thing I have always wanted but could never have… my shameful infatuation with her, a mage of all things.” His voice broke and he started to sob. 

Solona backed up. _Infatuation…Mage…He couldn’t mean…._ She looked at Wynne. The Senior Enchantress finally seemed to be her age, ever-present energy drained. 

“The boy has been tortured, mentally and physically. I can’t imagine what he’s been through to survive this long.”

Cullen didn’t seem to hear them as he heaved himself to his feet. “I’m tired of these cruel jokes! You will not use my sins against me. Begone!”

He blinked and seemed stunned to still see them there. “You’re still here? But that always worked before…”

Solona found a hand—Alistair’s—and gripped it tight. “We are real, Cullen. Do you know how we can get you out of there?”

“Solona?” Cullen stared at her, old awkward Cullen surfacing for a split second before his anguish returned. “What does it matter? Everyone is dead. Their screams… I don’t know how much more I can take. Please, you must go upstairs. Kill everyone you find. They can’t… the demons cannot be allowed to leave this place!”

Alistair spoke in the resulting silence. “We can’t just kill all the mages. What if they are still resisting?”

Cullen laughed, but it might have been closer to sobs. “Only mages are so susceptible to the whisperings of demons. Look what they have done! You can’t save them!”

“We will save who we can,” Alistair said quietly and turned away. The rest of their party followed, Solona choking back her tears. After a moment, Alistair slowed and wrapped an arm around her as she began to cry in earnest. Solona wanted to thank him, or apologize since she knew this wasn’t a good time, but all she could think was a single word. _Cullen._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is probably my favorite character in the Dragon Age series so needless to say, this chapter hurt to write.


	16. If I be Waspish, Best Beware my Sting

Solona stared down at the elf assassin, wondering what they were going to do with him.

“He tried to kill us,” Alistair protested. “If we let him live, what’s to stop him from trying again?”

“Are you that short-sighted, templar? We must at least ask him some questions,” Morrigan said. 

“What’s there to know? Who hired him? Loghain. Who wants us dead? Loghain.”

“There is more than that,” Leliana said. “What group is he from? How long will it take for them to notice he is gone and send someone else? Besides that, we don’t know for sure it was Loghain. Perhaps it was some noble trying to win the Regent’s favor. This is why we must question him.”

Alistair frowned. “Fine,” he said, glaring at the unconscious assassin. “But I really hope this won’t be something I have to say I told you so on.”

By some unspoken agreement, Leliana knelt down and stripped the assassin of a series of blades. Once she was confident he was relatively unarmed, she slapped him. 

The elf jolted awake, eyes fluttered. He moaned, squinting up at them. 

“Oh… I see that I am still alive. That is a rather welcome surprise.” The elf had a strange accent, different from Leliana’s. Solona wasn’t quite sure where to place it, which meant that he must have come a ways to get here. Despite her downcast mood, her curiosity welled.

“You won’t be surprised long if you don’t answer our questions,” Leliana was saying. Solona blinked at the coldness in the Chanty sister’s voice. She had never heard her friend talk like this. 

“Questions? Very well.” The elf, Zevran or Zev to his friends, proceeded to tell them everything he knew about his assignment, who had sent him, and anything else Leliana could think to ask him. He did so quickly but not without casual flirtations that had Solona blushing but didn’t seem to move the redhead. 

As Leliana finished up with the questions, the elf then suggested that since his failed assassination meant that his life was forfeit, they should let him serve them. 

Alistair laughed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You must think we are fools. You would stab us in the back at the first chance you had.”

Zevran looked slightly offended. “Loyalty is a funny thing. I am typically a very loyal person. Until you expect me to die for failing, then I don’t come very well recommended I suppose. I can cook, clean, shine your boots, take care of your… dog, or whatever you wish of me. I can even warm your bed if you wish, lovely goddess.”

Leliana smirked. “That won’t be necessary.” She stood, and their group took a few steps back. 

“Are we seriously considering this?” Alistair looked over the party, disbelief tinging his voice. 

“An Antivan Crow would be very useful. They are fearsome fighters,” Leliana commented. 

“I have no opinion,” Sten rumbled.

“I am for second chances as long as we are sure we can trust him,” Wynne said in her grandmother voice. 

“I think it is a fine plan, provided we don't let him near the cooking,” Morrigan said.

Archon barked, darted around Zevran, licking his face. That was another point in the elf’s favor. 

Solona cleared her throat softly, drawing five pairs of eyes in her direction. She blushed. That hadn’t been her intention. “I—“ Her voice cracked. She hadn’t used it in a couple of days; it felt rusty. She shook her head, swallowing. “I… think he should come with us.” She stared at her feet, embarrassed. 

“Solona…” Alistair said, unsure. He sighed and whirled to face the elf still sprawled out on the ground. “Desperation just knocked on the door and said hello, assassin. You get to live a while longer. I hope you are grateful.”

Zevran slowly got to his feet. “Oh, I am. Ladies,” he swept a bow in the direction of Leliana and Solona. “If you ever need anything, I am your man. I pledge my oath of loyalty to you till such a time as you see fit to release me.”

Alistair sighed. “Knock, knock.”


	17. Love All, Trust a Few, Do Wrong to None

“I want to know something,” Alistair said, stirring their supper. “What do you think about our traveling companions?”

Solona glared at the bunched cloth in her hand and slide the needle through it, tugging on the thread. They were about a day out from Redcliffe and were settling into their campsite, each to their respective tasks. The mages from the Circle had set up camp some distance away, and only Wynne seemed to have any inclination to interact with them. 

“What do you mean?” She asked, pushing the needle through the other side. 

“I mean Zevran, Morrigan, Leliana, and the rest. What do you think of them? I want to compare notes.”

Picking up the cloth so she could see it better in the firelight, Solona said, “I like them.”

Alistiar smiled and pulling a knife from his belt, began to slice up some small potatoes. “How about I give a name and then you tell me. Morrigan.”

“Smart, determined, and kind-hearted.”

“Really? That’s what you get from her? I don’t know how you see that, she’s just a complete bitch…”

Solona snorted and Alistair’s eyes twinkled. He continued. “Sten.”

“Silent, noble, and fearless.”

“I can see that although his eyes, the way he looks at the world…it’s creepy. But the more I talk to him the more I wonder. He did kill all those people after all. He doesn’t even deny it... Now Zevran. You don’t really trust him, do you?”

“I do. He is fierce and charming, but sincere.”

“I’m not sure about that combination, but if you trust him so much, I’ll give him a chance. Though someone should keep an eye on him, just in case. What about Leliana and her vision?”

Solona was silent for a moment, remembering the kind protective presence as she hide from the group, struggling with tears. “Leliana is a good friend. If she believes in her vision, I believe her.”

Alistair opened his mouth, thought about it, then closed it. He finished cutting a potato. “I’m not sure what I think about the matter. But when you look at her sometimes, she just seems so sad.” He paused, watching Solona stab herself with the needle. “Here, how about you stir and I… finish that. Blood loss is not a good way to go.”

“I don’t think there is a good way to go,” Solona said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Alistair didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Probably not. But I like to think that there are at least better ways to die. For honor, when protecting the things you care about.” Solona didn’t respond, half-heartedly fiddling with the ladle.

“Aren’t you going to discuss me?” Wynne asked from behind them. They jumped, Solona almost knocking over their dinner. Alistair steadied the pot before turning to the elderly mage. 

“You could say something instead of scaring us.”

Wynne laughed. “I thought that’s what I did. It is not my fault if you weren’t paying attention.”

Alistair snorted, going back to the pot, but his face relaxed as Solona smiled softly. “I’m just saying. We are Grey Wardens after all. Wynne and Archon aside, we are supposed to have some standards. Not just anyone should be able to join our party. Next thing you know we’ll be traveling with Rivaini pirates or Tevintar mages.”


	18. I’ll Follow Thee and Make a Heaven of Hell

Solona stared at her book, willing it to take her away. She had found the book in Arl Eamon’s study, no one seemed to mind when she walked off with it. She had been looking for a book on the Dales for ages, but now that she had one, she couldn’t focus on it.

Closing her eyes, she resting her head against the stone of the castle. The outer wall wasn’t the most comfortable place to read but it was peaceful. With Connor free from possession, Isolde had ordered an impromptu feast. Arl Eamon was still comatose, but at least the undead wouldn’t be rising again. 

Footsteps echoed down the walkway and Solona cracked open her eyes. Alistair.

 _Maker protect me._ Solona shut her eyes, hoping that perhaps he would think she was asleep or somehow not see her. He had been so nice to her since the Circle, she wasn’t sure how to act around him. Her heart pounded and her hands got all sweaty. _Why was she acting this way?_

“Solona?” Alistair asked, voice soft. 

_Guess he could see her._

“How is the feast going?”

“Good. Leliana is in her element. Though Sten just keeps cleaning his sword. You would think that it is his child. It is really starting to bother Lady Isolde, and I was just getting used to her not hating me.”

Solona smiled. “I’m glad they are enjoying themselves. They deserve some rest and happiness.”

Alistair paused, considering something. “You do too.”

She flushed. “I am fine.”

“You say that, but you haven’t laughed since the Circle. It has everyone worried.”

Solona opened her eyes, gaze falling onto her book. She needed to work on hiding her emotions. 

The ex-templar sat down next to her, back pressed against the wall. Solona was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he wasn’t wearing his armor, just a simple cloth shirt and leather pants. She could almost feel the heat from his skin. She buried her hands in her robes to keep them from touching his arm. 

“Solona, do you remember what you said to me after Duncan’s death?” Alistair’s voice startled her out of her inner struggle. 

“I told you that you weren’t alone.”

“And now I am here for you. If you need to talk, or you don’t and you just want company, I will do what I can to help,” Alistair said, smiling gently at her. 

Solona looked at the Warden, emotions churning. He was too kind. But did she really want to discuss what was going on? He might hate her for it. _I couldn’t bare that._

She shut her book.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to. I want to. You’re my friend, Solona.”

Solona sighed, tilting her head back to look at the pinpricks of light in the sky. 

“It’s all my fault, you know,” she said after a long moment of silence.

Alistair blinked. “What is?”

“This,” she waved at the surrounding area. Alistair continued to stare at her, confused, and she sighed again. 

“Connor getting possessed, the undead rising…” She fiddled with the book’s cover. “The villagers’ deaths. It’s my fault.”

“What makes you say that?” the ex-templar asked slowly. 

“I am the one who couldn’t keep her mouth shut, making Jowan turn to blood magic. If he hadn’t had to leave without Lily, the people we mourned for today would still be alive.” Her words came out in a rush at the end. She could feel them burning her, dancing across her forehead. _He’s going to hate me._ She wasn’t sure what she would do when she looked up to see that kind of emotion in his eyes. _Probably will have to find a better book to distract myself from that one._

“Is that what you think?” The lack of anger caused Solona to glance up. He didn’t seem mad, and as far as she knew, he was terrible at concealing emotions. 

She nodded. 

“Tell me this then, did you force the Arlessa to keep Connor from the Circle? No. Did you poison Arl Eamon? Hardly. Did you tell Connor to make a deal with a demon? Doubtful. So how is any of this your fault? Blame Loghain, Isolde, Jowan, or even Connor. But not yourself. You are not responsible for other people’s decisions.”

Alistair’s brown eyes were strong and sincere in the torchlight. Solona could only meet his eyes for a moment before the awkwardness became too much and she had look away. _He is right, of course._ Everyone but Connor knew what they were doing. But that didn’t stop the guilt. She raised her knees, placing her head on the book. 

“Thank you Alistair. I needed… to hear that. But I don’t want to pull you away from the celebration. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Her fellow Grey Warden stretched, boots scratching the stone. “I’m getting comfortable up here though. Perhaps I’ll stay for a while longer.” Solona smiled into her book and they fell into silence.


	19. She Doth Teach the Torches to Burn Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just me being a shameless shipper...

Alistair came back from chopping wood to find Zevran and Solona together. He paused, arms filled with sticks, watching them. They were sitting cross-legged facing each other, holding hands. _What?_ He forced himself to breathe and walked slowly over. He didn’t want to be rash about this; he was supposed to be a gentleman.

As he got a bit closer he could see that Zevran was smirking and Solona was red. The elf said something, and she jerked her hands away, causing Zevran to laugh and Solona to blush harder.

“Should I even ask?” Alistair questioned out-loud, looking down at the pair of them.

Solona stood, wiping her hands on the front of her robe. “It’s nothing,” she said. She took a step, tripped, and crashed into Alistair. 

Struggling not to drop his pile of wood on top of her, Alistair shifted the load and steadied the mage. He wasn’t wearing any gloves so he could feel the soft skin under her robes. _Andraste preserve me…_ He was glad it was dark as heat flashed across his face. Solona smiled at him, completely unaware. “Thank you, Alistair,” she said before going off to join the witch at her separate fire. 

Alistair watched her go. After their conversation at Redcliffe Castle, she had started to smile more and had even gone back to chasing down random plants. 

“You are rather hopeless, aren’t you?”

He whirled onto the Antivan Crow. “I’m what?”

Zevran leaned back, a grin stretching across his handsome face. “You like her, but you don’t do anything about it.”

Alistair turned, going to the fire pit and setting the wood down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Laughter followed him. “I may be devilishly good-looking, but I’m not blind. I see the way you look at her. You might as well hang a sign from your neck.”

Alistair gritted his teeth. “Do you have a point to all this?”

“I just think you should just bed her and get it over with. Quit dancing around the issue as it were.” 

If his face got any hotter, they wouldn’t need a campfire tonight. “I’m not going to talk to you about this.”

He could almost see Zevran smile as he spoke. “Fine, fine. But if you aren’t going to go after her, someone else will.” 

Alistair didn’t remember moving but he was suddenly in front of the elf. “You keep your hands off of her!” The elf raised said hands up in a gesture of peace, laughing. Alistair realized what he had done and stormed off, the assassin’s sounds of amusement mocking him.


	20. A Pound of Flesh

Solona knew strong emotions were not her strong point. She was good with happiness, mild sadness, maybe some annoyance, but the passionate emotions that were the stuff of legends and heroes, with those she floundered. 

So her anger was unfamiliar. It bubbled beneath her skin, making her want to move, to _hit_ something. She paced outside the nondescript building, her friends giving her uneasy looks. White sparks, craving to become lightning, jolted from her clenched fists. 

_How dare she!_

Solona whirled to face Leliana, the rogue’s face a barely controlled mask. “I’m sorry. Are you alright?” The words didn’t feel like enough, but she couldn’t think of what else to say.

The redhead nodded, slowly, as if she wasn’t sure herself. “I am fine. Majolaine… well, she hasn’t really changed. I’d rather not talk about it right now. But thank you for sticking up for me.”

Solona forced herself to smile, but she wasn’t sure if it turned out right. She should have done more. She should have been the kind of person who would have killed that bitch where she stood. Majolaine might as well have had a bow since her words had been missiles striking Leliana. Solona knew there were bad people out there, she had fought off enough bandits to know that. But to see someone deliberately say things to hurt another, that was too much. Leliana deserved better than that. _Why had they let Majolaine go?_

To relieve some of the energy threatening to turn her inside-out, Solona hurled a lightning bolt at the building where the bitch had been staying. It blasted the door into splinters and a second later, caught something on fire. 

“Solona, we’re in the middle of a city…” Alistair commented as voices rose, calling for the guards, for the Maker, and for the templars. Lightning on a clear day. Immediately ashamed at her outburst, Solona blushed. 

“Sorry.”

Alistair sighed, grabbing her hand as pounding footsteps got closer. “It’s alright. Let’s go!” Their group burst into run before the authorities could find them.


	21. More than Kin and Less than Kind

_So this is what a family is like,_ Solona thought, heart sinking. Goldanna glared at them, her demand for a better life for her and her children met with silence.

Alistair struggled for words, disappointment starting around his eyes and slowly carving itself into the rest of his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t have much, but perhaps this will help…” He handed over some of their sovereigns. 

Goldanna took the money quickly, counting it. “This! This will barely last the week! You go talk to your noble friends and tell them that your family is living in a hovel.”

Pain flickered in Alistair’s brown eyes and Solona lay her hand on his arm, not wanting him to feel alone. 

“And who is this?” Goldanna asked, gaze drilling into Solona. “Some whore following you for your riches? You’d rather spend your money on her than on your own family? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Solona took a step back- _how could a stranger hate her so much?_ \- even as Alistair took a step forward. “You leave her out of this. Solona is a good friend and a Grey Warden. She’s done more for me than you ever have and I see now, ever will. It was good to meet you, Goldanna. I wish it could have been in different circumstances.”

Grabbing her arm, Alistair pulled Solona out of the house, even as Goldanna started talking again. The door slammed shut behind them and Alistair stared out at the street, breath coming out in hard increments. 

“Alistair,” Solona said quietly. Alistair glanced at her, pain, anger, and sadness intermixing across his face. “You’re hurting my arm.” The Warden’s gaze to where his hand gripped her skin, turning it white. He let go quickly. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just… I expected something different, you know? Maybe not welcome me with open arms but at least for her to be happy to see me. That’s what family is supposed to do, isn’t it?”

Solona hesitantly reached up, tracing his check with her hand. Some of his tension faded with her touch. “I don’t know, Alistair. I really don’t know.”


	22. Alas, Poor Weylon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer than normal but since the last two were shorter, it hopefully evens out

Cheeks hurting, Solona glanced at the tomato with facial features and burst into fresh giggles.

“It’s not funny,” the tomato said, somehow turning redder.

“That’s because you are on the wrong side of it,” Zevran said cheerfully, grinning. “If you were us, you’d be on the floor by now.”

Alistair growled, but didn’t say anything, causing Solona to laugh harder. She leaned onto Zevran’s arm, almost crying with mirth. The elf patted her head. 

“Isabela does have a way with people. She would be a good addition to our little group if you could convince her,” Zevran continued. “And I’m sure she would _love_ to spend some more time in your company.”

“No Rivaini pirates,” the Warden muttered. 

“Pity.”

Making their way back to the market, Solona’s laughter died down to an ache in her cheeks and she wondered what everyone had been up to since they parted ways earlier in the day. Their party was a bit conspicuous together so they had agreed to meet up at the Emporium before sundown. They still had a bit more time with which Solona hoped to find Brother Genitivi and perhaps even help the city guard some more. 

They looped around the edge of the market, and Alistair knocked on the door. Solona looked at the bare wooden frame of the building. It was undistinguished for such a famous scholar. 

“Wait!” Her hand brushed Alistair’s and he glanced at her, poised to knock again. 

“What is it?”

“We can’t meet him yet.”

Alistair blinked. “Why not?”

“I need to find one of his books. Perhaps if I ask nicely he’ll sign it for me.”

The two men stared at her and Solona rubbed her nose self-consciously. Zevran started laughing but Alistair managed to keep a straight face, lips twitching. She blushed. _So this is how Alistair felt leaving the Pearl._

“How about we wait till later, and then I will personally buy you a copy and get it signed,” Alistair suggested. She nodded, anything to get the elf to stop grinning at her, golden eyes dancing. 

Their second set of knocks had a smaller dark-haired man opening the door. 

“Hello?”

“Greetings, friend. We are looking for Brother Genitivi. Is he home?”

“Hello. I am Weylon, Brother Genitivi’s assistant and I’m sorry but I haven’t seen him in several weeks. He hasn’t even written, which is unlike him.”

“Oh,” Alistair said, disappointed. “Do you know the last place he was at or anything about the location of the Urn of Sacred Ashes?”

The assistant told them of the strange curse that seemed to befall anyone who went looking for the Urn. Solona felt bad for Weylon. It had to be hard to wait for news of someone’s safety and to get only silence. 

“Very well. We will go to the inn at Lake Calenhad to look for clues. Thank you for your help,” Alistair said.

Several people yelled behind them, and the group turned to look. A rack of weapons near the center of the market smashed to the ground, a familiar brown shape hurtling towards them.

“Stop! You are not a true warrior if you ignore to your superior’s commands. Hold still!” Sten shouted, racing to catch up to the mabari. Morrigan ran behind him, feathers flapping. 

“Archon!” Solona called out, holding out her arms. Air whooshed as he passed and she felt strangely rejected. 

“Hey, you can’t come in here!” Weylon yelped as Archon barreled by him, knocking the assistant to the ground. 

Solona chased after her dog. “Archon, come back here! We’re not allowed to go into other people’s houses without permission.”

The dog kept going, breaking down a back door. _Wow, he is strong. I wonder what’s in those treats Morrigan keeps giving him._ Solona ran around the table, and tripped over a chair, feet entangled in its legs. 

Zevran hooted, once again amused, but Alistair was at her side in an instant, helping her to her feet.

“What has gotten into that dog?” Alistair asked, making sure she was balanced before slowly letting go of her hand. 

The dog in question let out a howl from the back room. 

“Stop, there are valuables back there!” Weylon scrambled to his feet. “I can’t allow you to go in to that room. Brother Genitivi would kill me.”

“If the mongrel refuses to listen to us, what makes you think he will bother to listen to you?” Morrigan asked, stepping into the house. Weylon froze, staring up at the Qunari who bent to follow her. 

“It’ll only be a second,” Solona promised. “Don’t worry, I’m good with books.” She had barely taken a step into the room when her muscles clenched, a horrid stench filling her nose. Weylon’s “Wait!” barely registered.

Alistair and Zevran came in after her, and the assassin whistled. 

“Weylon, I presume.” 

Solona couldn’t take her eyes off the decomposing body. Something _moved_ in the dark mess of a person and she choked. Gentle hands tugged her away so that she could no longer see the shape that used to be alive. 

“Do your thing Warden,” Zevran muttered and Alistair suddenly stumbled into her. After a second, he placed her arms around her; Solona kept her eyes open, unable to stop seeing the corpse. She couldn’t move. Alistair shifted uneasily then hesitantly began to rub small circles into her back. 

People were talking and Solona could distinguish the fake-Weylon’s voice getting louder. He yelled in pain and then began to talk more quietly. Sten’s low voice rumbled and then there was a squishing sound. 

“Well, that was unexpected,” Morrigan said. “He must be quite determined if he would kill himself in order not to reveal any more information.”

“Or he could be crazy,” Zevran suggested. “Crazy people often kill themselves.”

A wet nose bumped her leg and Solona looked down from her Alistair cocoon. Archon wagged his tail at her, eyes apologizing. “You did good, boy!” Solona said before resting her head back on Alistair’s plate. She felt bad for making him comfort her and was still a bit uneasy about getting hugs from attractive males, but she needed another moment of safety that came with an armored-covered man.

“So did he say where Brother Genitivi really is?” Alistair asked. 

“Yep. We did get that much out of him,” Zevran said. “He’s in a little town in the Frostbacks called Haven.”


	23. If She Lives Till Doomsday, She'll Burn a Week Longer Than the Whole World

It had been a while since Solona was in this much pain. _Better me than anyone else._ She knelt in the grass, coughing as her companions hovered over her. Leliana called for Wynne and Solona tasted blood. _That can’t be good._

She rested her head against the cool earth and felt Archon nuzzle her ear. “I’m fine, boy,” she whispered, hoping at least someone would believe those words.

“You are going to need to turn around if you want to get healed,” Morrigan was saying, hands on her shoulder. “Alistair, since you won’t stop fretting, help me flip her. Gentle now.”

The world rotated and she was looking at a blue sky. White clouds surfed behind concerned faces that she couldn’t focus on. 

“That’s a lot of blood… Wynne!” Alistair called, voice panicking. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” Wynne said. Solona relaxed with the older mage’s presence. _Should she be worried? Well, she didn’t want the others to worry._

“It’s okay, Wynne. I’m fine,” Solona said, even as pain lanced through her, making her gasp. 

“Shh, now. Don’t talk,” Wynne told her and Solona closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness came crashing down. 

“Wynne, can you do something? You are a spirit healer, aren’t you?” Alistair’s words jumbled together in her ears. 

“Someone take him away, he’s distracting me.”

“What? Hey! Sten, Zevran, what are you doing? I am not a child, I can handle this…” Her fellow Warden’s voice faded as if coming from a distance. 

Wynne began to hum and Solona’s stomach tickled. She reached to scratch it. 

“Now now dear, none of that. Leliana, Morrigan, will you hold her down? I need to reset her rib and it’s going to hurt.”

 _What?_ Solona could scarcely think before white pain knocked her spinning to the recesses of her mind, unconsciousness coming as a welcome relief.

oOo

“I don’t need to be carried, I can walk by myself,” Solona protested, jiggling against Sten’s hard chest. 

“The healer said you shouldn’t move for the rest of the day,” Sten said, not even looking at her. 

“Well, I feel fine. I don’t want to burden you any longer.”

“You are too light to be a burden.”

Solona frowned. Wynne had healed her hours ago and after much convincing, she had finally managed to get them to keep moving. _How long did Arl Eamon have?_ But even if Sten said she wasn’t any trouble, she was making extra work for him. A little pain was worth not bothering anyone.

“Please Sten,” Solona said quietly. “I feel bad just resting all day.”

Sten glanced down at her, dark eyes unjudging. “There is a time for everything, Kadan. I owe you for much, freeing me from my cage, retrieving my sword, and helping me get back my honor. I am glad to do something in return for you.”

Solona blushed at his blatant sincerity and looked down at her hands. 

Several moments passed before Sten spoke. “Do you know much of the Qunari homeland?” Solona shook her head and as Sten began to talk, found herself drawn in by the pictures painted with Sten's words.


	24. That Danger Shall Seem Sport

Solona was in the midst of trying not to get herself stabbed by tent poles when Zevran spoke. 

“My lovely Grey Warden, we really need to teach you how to better conduct yourself in a confrontation.”

She glanced at him as Leliana laughed. “Confrontation, Zev? You must pick your words with better care else she will think you are going to teach her how to debate.”

Zevran frowned mockingly at the rogue. “Leliana, was I talking to you? Of course not, saucy minx. Continue making our dinner while I have a word with our favorite Warden.”

Leliana’s bell-like laugh rang out again but she went back to heating some large river stones. 

Getting a good hold on three of the poles, Solona gave the elf more of her attention. “What do you mean? I thought I was getting pretty good. I didn’t even singe anyone during the attack several days ago.”

A pole slipped out of her grip and sprang at her face. Solona yelped as it hit her head, stinging. The surprise of pain caused her to let go of the other two and as they came swinging at her, Zevran snatched them from the air. “This is what I’m talking about my dear. This clumsiness. I thought you Grey Wardens were all about killing archdemons, but if you aren’t careful, you won’t make it that far. Which would be a pity.”

Solona held a hand to her head, feeling a welt begin to form. “You know how to change that?”

Zevran laughed. “I can teach you how to fight, which will definitely help you live longer.”

oOo

“Morrigan and Wynne aren’t getting taught how to fight,” Solona said, standing uneasily in front of Zevran. 

“That’s because Morrigan can handle herself and Wynne knows how to stay out of trouble, neither of which apply to you.”

Solona frowned, cheeks turning an endearing pink. Since Alistair could see it from where he stood, she had to be pretty embarrassed. 

“Besides, you learning how to conduct yourself would be very helpful for the rest of our party.” Zevran said this like he was dangling a bone in front of Archon. Solona’s eyes narrowed and she nodded. 

Alistair fiddled with his bowl, unable to focus on eating. It made sense for Solona to be able to handle herself without resorting to magic, but he didn’t have to like the assassin’s methods.

His bite of stew nearly killed him as Zevran came at Solona, flipping her. The elf had her pinned on the ground, body on top her in a split second. Alistair’s skin boiled and he had scarcely taken a step towards them when Zevran shot him a grin, kissed Solona on the cheek, and helped her to her feet. 

_The elf was taunting him._ Alistair grit his teeth and forced himself not to move. He may not have Zevran’s experience at wooing females but he wasn’t ‘wooless’ as the elf put it. He just did it a slower pace. 

_Snail’s pace._

As the assassin wrapped his arms around Solona’s waist, showing her how to hold herself, Alistair focused on breathing exercises he had learned back in the Chantry. The elf’s hand snacked up her body so it was right under Solona’s…

“Is that really necessary?” Alistair asked, feeling himself change color. Solona and Zevran looked at him, the elf smiling, not moving his hand. 

“Is everything alright, Alistair?” Solona asked, eyes soft. _She was concerned for him?_

“I’m fine,” Alistair said, waving his hand and turning so he wouldn’t have to look at them. _There has got to be some wood around here that’s just asking to be kindling._


	25. Reason and Love Keep Little Company Together Nowadays

“Solona, are you busy?”

Solona glanced up at Alistair, she could only see his head peeking out over some bushes. “Not really. I’m just washing dishes.”

“Yeah. Right. I forgot,” Alistair said, itching his arm. He walked down the slight ridge of the river bank to sit next to her. He didn’t say anything, just watching her as she scrubbed their main pot. Solona shifted. She was getting better at dealing with the feeling of awkwardness she had around Alistair, but it still made her antsy. _What if she said the wrong thing?_

Shaking her head- _it’s not like anything will come of this silly crush_ \- Solona took a rock and began to hit the lump of…. something that used to be edible. 

“This may be a strange question,” Alistair began, pulling Solona from her thoughts. She glanced at him; he was playing with a pebble. She sometimes forgot that he wasn’t that much older than her.

“All the stuff we’ve gone through… the death, fighting, darkspawn, end of Thedas as we know it… are you going to miss it?”

Solona blinked and Alistair rushed on, “I’m sorry. It’s a bad question. Of course you won’t. Who would ever miss this?” He trailed off, gripping the rock tightly.

“It’s not a bad question,” Solona said quietly. Alistair peeked at her, brown eyes hopeful. Solona took a breath. “I think I will miss this in some ways. I loved my life in the Circle, but there is just so much of the world outside of the tower. The sights and sounds… I’ve learned so much.” Alistair slumped a bit. 

“And I would have never met all these people. You, Morrigan, Leliana, Zevran, and Sten. I… I can’t really imagine my life without you all.” Solona set the pot down, rubbing her eyes. She wouldn’t cry in front of Alistair. 

“Solona…” Alistair murmured.

She looked at her hands, embarrassed. There she went, making a situation awkward. She reached for the pot to give herself something to do and froze. It wasn’t there.

Glancing up, she saw a black shape floating down the river. 

“Oh,” She stood and the mud underneath her feet shifted. She slipped, splashing into the river. 

It was deeper and colder than she had expected, knocking her breath out. Flailing, she tried to find the river bottom, there had to be a bottom, but it eluded her. Her foot struck something and for a moment there was air and she could breathe, but then there was only water.

 _Where was up? Where..._ She bumped into something solid that grabbed her. She screamed, kicking frantically, the little air she had left bubbling from her lips. _Please don’t pull me under!_

“Solona! Calm down, it’s just me.” Alistair’s voice immediately soothed her and she stopped trying to get away. She blinked water from her eyes as he carried her to shore. She started shivering. The air felt so cold. Alistair set her on the bank, moving her hands against his own to create heat. “Are you alright?”

She put a shaky smile on, still racked with shivers. “Zevran will need to teach me to swim next.” Alistair stared at her hands in his and said, “How about I help with that one.” 

Solona laughed and concentrated on not shaking so much. 

“We should really get you back to camp. The fire should help warm you,” Alistair said after a moment. Solona nodded and he hoisted her to her feet. A bit embarrassed, she found her legs were too numb to work right and she had to lean on Alistair in order to make it up the small incline by the river.

They made it to the top and Alistair paused, looking everywhere but at her.

“Solona, I know this probably isn’t the best time but I don’t know if I can carry it around anymore.”

She froze, cold forgotten. _Please don’t say you are going to leave._

Alistair swallowed and finally met her eyes. “It might sound strange since we haven’t know each other long, but… Solona… I’ve come to care for you… a great deal.” Solona lost his next works over the rush in her head. _Maybe she was dreaming, unconscious from the river or perhaps Zevran had hit her too hard in their practice session and she was just coming to. This couldn’t be real._

“…Morrigan is always telling me I’m a fool so maybe one day I might just believe her. I am probably fooling myself by creating something that isn’t there.” If anything, the ex-templar turned redder. “Am I fooling myself? You just need to tell me and I won’t bring it up again.”

Solona’s body wasn’t responding. Or her brain wasn’t sending any signals. She stared at him, mouth open slightly. Alistair waited but as she continued to say nothing, he pulled away. “I’m sorry. Go tell Morrigan she’s right after all.” He laughed but it didn’t sound right. He turned and took a few steps back down the hill towards camp.

_Do something!_

“A…Alis..Alistair,” She struggled to get the name out. The ex-templar moved to face her, expression shifting as he tried to control his emotions. “Yes?”

Solona took a step and felt herself fall, numb legs unable to support her. Alistair caught her, but her momentum and his awkward position sent them tumbling down the hill. They stopped moving with Solona sprawled out on top of the Warden. She looked up at Alistair and the mixture of pain and something clenched her gut, rendering her speechless.

_Don’t just lay there. You need to say something!_

“Sorry,” Solona said, ducking her head. _More!_ “I really need to work on staying on my feet. But um…” _Words are useless._ “About what you said… I… Alistair, I…” She gathered her courage. “I care for you too. I have for a while now. You’re nice but you're firm. You always try to put a smile on a situation and lighten everyone’s load. You protect the people you care about and even those that you don’t. I…” She trailed off, his eyes were swirling with that something. 

“So I fooled you,” he breathed, a smile growing on his face. Before she could ponder what that meant, he came forward, causing her to sit in his lap. His arms circled around her back and he bent down, lips brushing her own. 

Instinct alone closed Solona’s eyes as Alistair kissed her, a soft press of skin against skin. He was warm to her cold and somehow, it made everything just feel right. 

He pulled away, and Solona opened her eyes. Alistair was looking down at her with such adoration that she could have combusted without noticing. He reached up, stroking her check. “I hope that wasn’t too soon.” Solona couldn’t think of any words so instead she pulled him down to her, kissing him again. His lips smiled as she pressed against him, his arms tightening their hold,

Alistair broke away first, laughing. His eyes shone. “We probably should get back before I forget exactly what we are supposed to be doing.” He slowly untangled himself from her and they stood. Alistair grinned as he looked at her and Solona smiled back, heart still racing with the thrill of a first kiss. “Maker’s breathe, I am lucky.”

With a sudden motion that had her dizzy, Alistair picked her up and spun her around, laughing again. He raised her chin, lips against her own once more. “You are so beautiful, Solona.” He whispered and she shivered. 

Alistair gripped her hand. “Right, right. Let’s get you warm.” 

They had taken only a few steps when Solona paused, horrified. “Alistair, the pot!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that since one of the main characters is Alistair, excessive amounts of cheese are perfectly acceptable.


	26. Whether 'tis Nobler in the Mind to Suffer

Leliana’s blade dispatched the dragon and the creature fell to the ground, dark blood draining to the stone floor. Solona placed her hands on her knees, panting. _I had always wanted to see a dragon._ Who knew she would actually get her wish? No high dragons yet, but after fighting a normal dragon, she decided that her goals didn’t need to be so lofty.

The group of cultists who were waiting for them at the end of the tunnel were not impressed. 

“You’ve killed them!” The bearded man who called himself a Father berated them. “You have covered yourself in the blood of Andraste’s children, but she will smell it on you and she will have her revenge.”

_Andraste’s children?_ “Do you mean the dragons?” Solona asked. “I don’t remember them every being called that.”

The Father continued to talk, hands growing more animated. Leliana crossed her arms, face growing stony.

“The man has lost it,” Zevran muttered, none too quietly.

“We are her loyal followers!” The Father yelled.

“I thought Andraste died,” Solona said, trying to remember the exact date. _It was before the Chantry calendar._

“She lives! She was reborn in the fire and has come down to us.” 

“No, I’m pretty sure she died in fire. Even so, a person can’t live over a thousand years,” Solona said. _What was that date again? 160 Ancient? No, that’s not quite right._

“She is not a person!” The Father lunged at her but Alistair got in his way, blocking the attack with his shield. 

The cultists were passionate, but unskilled and soon their party was standing amidst patterns of blood. Solona healed a cut on Alistair’s arm, blue light glowing warm underneath her fingertips. He smiled at her, making her blush.

“Solona, I changed my mind. We do need to work on your verbal confrontation skills,” Zevran said, searching the body of the Father. He grinned at what he found, pocketing it and tossed Leliana a black dagger. “Lesson number one. Just agree with crazy people. It will go much easier that way.”


	27. Though She Be But Little, She is Fierce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready! Set! Action (Scene)!

_Why had she agreed to join the Grey Wardens again?_ Solona gripped her staff, staring at the scaled mountain that was flying at them. _Wardens fought archdemons. How had that sounded like a good alternative to templars?_

“Move!” Alistair yelled at the group, dispersing them. The high dragon the cultists thought was Andraste roared, flames scorching the earth where they had been standing moments before. Solona could feel the heat from it warm her skin even from where she hide behind Alistair. 

“Mages! Leliana! Bring that dragon down!” Alistair ordered.

Solona raised her staff. _Focus. Think of this as a practice archdemon._ She dug deep and began casting. Her Gravitation spells didn’t seem to even shake the great beast so she started combining them, trying to pull the dragon from the sky.

Nearby, Wynne and Morrigan tag-teamed the beast, trying to freeze its wings. Their work seemed just as effective as Solona’s. 

After a few shots, Leliana gave up with her bow. “Sten!” She shouted, dropping her the useless weapon and quiver. The Qunari glanced in her direction and took a knee. Leliana ran at him, eyes on the dragon. Whipping out her daggers, she stepping into Sten’s giant hands and soared into the air. 

“Leliana!” Solona yelled, churning through her spells mentally to think of something that could catch her. 

The rogue didn’t need her help as the dragon continued its trajectory—right underneath Leliana. Blades dug into serpentine flesh as the Chantry sister landed on the high dragon. She shouted, ripping her daggers through the side of the creature. 

Screaming, the false-god hit the ground and Zevran was on it in a flash, leaving black trails of blood on its soft snout and neck. The dragon clawed at him and the assassin just managed to duck out of the way. By this time, the rest of the party’s melee fighters were upon it. 

Wynne and Solona moved back to focus on healing while Morrigan went to offensive magic. 

Blood streamed down the dragon’s body from multiple wounds. It looked like it was slowing down. _They were going to win this one!_

Something in the air changed and the melee fighters backed up. The dragon attacked, fast as a snake. Red liquid burst as the dragon got part of its mouth around Sten. The other four darted in to help. Leliana got crushed as the beast threw Sten at her. Alistair was sent flying with a swipe of a taloned paw and as Zevran jumped away, the dragon began to flame. 

The world was burned for what felt like eternity. Solona’s skin felt crispy but it didn’t hurt; Wynne had gotten a shield up around them just in time. The fire’s slowly died and Solona saw bodies littering the ground. She choked on a sudden sob. _No._

“There is no time for that now,” Wynne said calmly, as if they weren’t in the middle of a battlefield. “Do you think you could distract the dragon for a minute while I heal Sten? He won’t survive long with that much bloodloss.”

Solona forced herself to breathe and nodded. “May the Maker watch over you,” Wynne said and then she was running with a speed that defied her age. 

The dragon’s eyes traced the movement and Solona took the time to throw a lightning bolt at it.

“Over here!” She yelled, voice cracking. 

The great beast’s large head swung in her direction and it was all she could do not to run. It was like the nightmares all over again. The lightning in her hands sputtered, dying. _She couldn’t face a dragon…what was she thinking?_

Wynne had reached the Qunari. The rest of the companions were scattered across the ground. _If she didn’t do something, they were all going to die._

_Right._

Solona started casting. Spell after spell struck the beast, doing little damage. A range of ice in its path shattered as it came at her. Solona ran, throwing fire and lightning behind her. A dark shadow passed over her as the dragon jumped, the ground quaking when it landed in front of her. Solona skidded to a stop and threw a Gravitation spell at it. Nothing.

Healing blue light still came from Wynne and Solona knew the older mage still needed more time. _What should she do?_ Solona lunged to the side, rolling across the rocky ground when the dragon snapped at her. _There is one option…_ Solona stood, knowing this was a bad idea, and kicked her boots off. As the dragon reoriented itself, she dropped her staff and ran at the creature.

She felt her body increase. Her skin itched as fur burst from it, ripping her clothes to shreds and she dropped on to all fours. It should have been weird, but instead the feeling of running on clawed paws felt _right_.

Roaring, Solona lunged at the dragon, narrowly avoiding snapping teeth. Letting instincts she couldn’t claim guide her, she latched down on the beast’s throat, just below the head. 

The dragon reared back and Solona’s paws left the ground. Panicking, she scratched at the chest in front of her, destroying scales with her claws. With a jerk, the dragon tossed Solona off and she hit the ground hard, a clump of flesh still in between her teeth. She considered eating it but the human bit that remained dropped the skin. 

A rumble turning into a gargle had Solona’s attention focusing back onto her opponent. The dragon shook its head, blood flying in every direction. Solona didn’t think as she ran back towards the giant lizard, its blows slow. She scratched its face and torn the neck wound even deeper, spilling steaming blood onto her fur. 

Stumbling, the dragon fell and was still. Solona gasped in front of it, watching for any sign of life. There was none. 

Around her, the two-legs approached. The old one knelt beside the one with pointed ears and a male covered in a hard substance came forward. Noises came from him and she cocked her head, not understanding. 

A dark female made a strange sound and touched Solona’s shoulder. For some reason, this didn’t alarm her although she growled softly as the male tried to do the same. Something was flung over her shoulders and the woman spoke to her calmly. 

The voice soothed her and Solona relaxed. Something wasn’t right though. This wasn’t her form. Odd. She was supposed to look like these two-legged creatures. Concentrating, she began to shrink and fur fell from her bare flesh. As she got opposable digits, her thoughts became clearer. _She had been a bear!_ Solona wasn’t sure whether to celebrate or cry. 

Her skin felt weird and sticky and when she glanced at it, she saw that her human skin still had some of the dragon’s blood on it. _Maybe just throwing up would help._

“Solona? Are you okay?” Alistair’s voice was higher pitched than normal.

She leaned against him, taking strength from his solidness. _She was alright; she was human again._ The thought flickered by that she had forgotten herself for a while there, no more than a beast. She started to shake. Alistair put his arms around her and she buried her face into his elbow, not wanting to think about that.

“’tis easier with practice. The first change is always the most strenuous.” Morrigan said. “Though the fact that you managed to shift forms so easily is most impressive.”

Her laughter began somewhere in the pit of her stomach and worked its way up her gut to burst from her mouth. Alistair pushed her back slightly so he could get a better look at her face.

“Dear lady, covered in dragon’s blood and laughing. What would the Circle say?” 

Solona spoke in between her laughs and attempts to get a breath in. “’How did you learn how to do that?’ or ‘Looks like blood magic.’”

Morrigan snorted softly. “’tis not blood magic simple because ‘tis old magic.”

Using Zevran as a crutch, Leliana stumbled forward. “Whatever it was, I knew you could do it. Unlike some people.”

The assassin sighed and handed her something. “Yes, yes, minx. I remember our bet. No need to point it out.”

“What was your bet?” Alistair asked. 

“For three sovereigns and a massage of the winner’s choosing, I bet that if Solona was able to shapeshift, she would turn into a small, fluffy cub. Leliana said that she’d be as fierce as they’d come.”

Solona looked at her friends aghast as they began to chuckle. Behind them, Sten helped steady Archon as Wynne worked on resetting his leg.


	28. And Flashing Fire Will Follow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aka some of the conversations in DA:O are too good ignore.
> 
> Also, I'm trying to keep my teen rating so... warning, sexual references.

Holding Solona’s hands, Zevran stared into the mage’s brown eyes as he flirted. 

“And then, my dear, you will go down to your knees in front of me. I will stroke your hair as you lean forward, pulling at my laces with your teeth. When they are loose enough, you will take your hand, reach into my pants, and---“

Solona pulled away, unable to take it anymore. Zevran laughed, leaning back. “I win again. Another night’s chores bartered away. You should be careful else I think you are doing this just to get on my good side by doing all my chores.”

She covered her face in response and he pulled her in to kiss her forehead. “Oh my darling Warden. You are simply too innocent. Perhaps Alistair will one day teach you not to be so embarrassed.”

He hadn’t thought it was possible but she turned even redder.

“No? Well, if you wish, I will gladly teach you the ways of the world,” Zevran said, giving her his best roguish grin.

Getting to her feet in an instant, Solona mumbled an apology and ran off, tripping over something on the way.

Zevran chuckled. _She really needed to stop trying to beat him at this game. He was a professional._

A few of the members of the strange party in which he found himself were in the camp site but a majority were out for chores, bathing, or simply getting some quiet time. Spotting Alistair, Zevran stood to visit the other Warden he had come to consider as a friend. _Strange times._

“So Alistair, I’ve been wondering something. You were raised in the Chantry, correct? I am not completely familiar with their beliefs, not being a religious sort myself, but I noticed they tend to disapprove of most things enjoyable in this life. Does that mean you have never…”

Alistair jumped in before he could ask. “Have I never…what? Danced naked? Eaten a whole bowl of cuttlepot stew? Licked a lamppost in winter?”

Zevran smiled at the man’s obvious attempts to keep himself from being embarrassed. _You should realize who you are talking to._ “You know, I wasn’t sure what kind of things you were into, Alistair. But now I know. Cuttlepot stew while nude. Really, how you intend to get Solona to go along with that is something I can’t comprehend.”

As if cued, the Warden blushed. “Oh, sure. You would take it that way. I don’t even know why I bothered. The answer is no. I have not done…that.”

“Licked a lamppost in winter? Why not? It can actually be quite enjoyable with the pressing of tongues to strange surfaces, the hard, resolute poles, and the chance of being caught by those who might disapprove.”

He had now gotten Alistair to match his fellow Warden in color. _Success._

Alistair stood hurridly. “You know, I’m going to leave. Before I… explode… or something.”

As the ex-templar walked away, Zevran couldn’t resist one last jib. “If you want to learn more about what exactly goes on when licking a lamppost, Solona went in the direction a bit to your left.”

The Warden broke into a run and Zevran laughed.


	29. Soar With Them Above a Common Bound

Screams and blood. Darkspawn’s faces. A dragon’s voice encouraging it all. 

Solona opened her eyes, fear freezing the rest of her body. _It was just a dream. Just a dream._ Her own reassurances didn’t convince her arms to move though. 

It was dark, the fire had died down to embers. There were no shadows on her tent to give her hints about her surroundings. The Kocari Wilds were a strange place to sleep. _Alistair’s on watch. Nothing was going to get her._

Gradually, life flowed back into her limbs and Solona rolled off her sleeping mat. As quietly as she could, she climbed out of her tent. The light of the stars revealed the other tents around the glowing fire pit. _Things not to crash into._

Making her way across the campsite, Solona went looking for Alistair. She found him sitting on a slight ridge, facing away from her. She touched his shoulder and sat down. He didn’t seem surprised to see her. 

“More dreams?” 

She nodded and rested her head against him. “We’ve now killed two dragons, one was probably an ancient and powerful witch and the other was said to be Andraste reborn, but the archdemon still terrifies me. It's just so...evil. It will destroy us all as if it can. 

His arm encircled her, keeping her safe, causing a soft warm emotion to flutter in her chest. Solona looked up at her fellow Warden. She could only see hints of features but it was enough to increase the feeling. Closing her eyes, she wondered at herself. _This isn’t a fairy tale. These emotions can’t be what you think they are._ But part of her hoped she was right. 

“It’s as we decided in the beginning. We don’t really have a choice. Kill the dragon, stop the Blight, get parades in our honor, it’s all in a day’s work for a Warden. Besides, as you said, we’ve already tackled two dragons. What’s one little archdemon and a pesky darkspawn horde? They can’t be scarier than Sten when he finds you trying to take one of his cookies.” 

Solona laughed a little, knowing that’s what he had wanted to hear. Sten was constantly giving her cookies, apparently the others weren’t as lucky. But then she sighed. Thinking about a life beyond the Blight was impossible, like trying to look past a mountain. 

“I have something for you,” Alistair said suddenly, shifting. Solona sat up, eyes open. Something organic came into her hand. 

“I found it while we were in Lothering, midst all the chaos and suffering. It seemed so strange… and sad there. The taint would destroy it and all that beauty would be lost. It… reminds me of you in a way." 

Solona traced her hand up the object and pricked herself on something. She sucked on her finger. “Thorny?” 

“What?” Alistair laughed. “All that careful planning, debating if I should use the word beauty or radiance… gone.” 

He fumbled in the dark, seeking her face. Warm lips pressed against hers for an endless moment and heat flashed through her chest. Alistair pulled back, laughing quietly. “What I was trying to say, my dear, is how amazed I am to find someone like you. You are a rare and lovely light in this darkness. I just wanted you to know how much I care for you and how grateful I am that you are here… with me.” 

_Was he blushing?_ Solona couldn’t quite tell in the shadows of the night. Velvet petals caressed her fingertips and she tugged the ex-templar down for a kiss. 

Lips moved against hers and she wrapped her fingers around his arms, holding him as tight as she could. She didn’t know how to express herself verbally, but perhaps this was one way she could show her feelings for the awkward Warden who comforted her bad dreams with a flower and kind words. 

As gently as he could, Alistair lowered her to the ground, lying half on top of her as they kissed. Jolts went through the back of her mind. _This was getting a bit too close to…_ Solona sent her inhibitions away, instead concentrating on the sensations flooding through her and on the man who was slowly taking her heart. 


	30. Fare Thee Well, King: Freedom Lives Hence, and Banishment is Here.

The King of Ferelden was different in death. 

Solona took one glance and then went to throw up. After trying to get the taste out of her mouth, she made her way to Alistair, carefully avoiding looking at the corpse pinned to some boards. She touched the Warden’s arm and he automatically grabbed her hand, squeezing it. 

“How are you doing? Solona asked, feeling useless in the ways of comforting someone. 

“You know, this is the first time I ever met my brother. Duncan always tried to keep us separated. Cailan never knew I existed, which was for the best I guess. But I have to wonder, my family is mostly dead and my sister is not really the family type, am I just unlucky? Selfish I know, staring at a dead man bemoaning my own lack of belonging but… yeah.”

 _Words are hard_ , Solona decided for the hundredth time. 

“We should take him down and give him a proper funeral,” she said finally. 

“If it’s going to be a proper funeral we are going to need much more alcohol and possibly some fancy dancers,” Zevran said. Leliana punched him, hard and he muttered something at her that Solona couldn’t make out. She decided she didn’t want to. 

Sten and Alistair did most of the lifting and Morrigan and Leliana tag-teamed tearing down the boards the king had been pinned to in order to make a stand. In several minutes, the body of the king was ready to burn. 

“Shall we say a few words?” Wynne asked and then continued. “I never met King Cailan, but I heard he was a good man. One who truly cared about his subjects.”

“He never hired a Crow. Although I am not sure if that can be seen as a compliment or an insult to his ability to negotiate.”

“No person deserves to go the way he did,” Leliana said softly. “It is too terrible. May he find peace by the Maker’s side.”

“He treated people like they were people,” Solona said, unable to think of anything else.

Alistair was last. “King Cailan hoped too much and gave life his all. That’s all we can ever do.”

In the resulting silence, the sister began the Chant. Wynne raised her staff and lit the pyre. What remained of the King of Ferelden went up in flames.

“Though all before me is shadow,  
Yet shall the Maker be my guide.  
I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.  
For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light  
And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.”

As Leliana said the final words, an arrow struck the burning mass. The companions spun to see a group of darkspawn charging at them. Behind them all, a hurlock with golden armored gloves waved the troops on. _Those looked a lot like… it couldn’t be…_

Dozens of dead darkspawn later and they had assembled the full set of King Cailan’s armor. It was amazing the darkspawn hadn’t taken it and left but here it was. 

“It’ll be heavy to carry,” Sten commented. 

“But think of how much we could make off of it,” Zevran said. “We could be properly outfitted for adventuring, maybe even get some horses.”

“These belonged to the king. We should leave them with his body in his honor,” Wynne said.

Morrigan snorted. “And what good will that do him? He doesn’t need them. I agree with Zevran. Let us make use of this armor.”

As they debated, Solona watched Alistair. He seemed troubled. _Why can’t you do something to help him? You are… together after all._

“Well I think Alistair should take it. The armor belongs to royalty and Alistair is the last remaining Theirin,” Leliana said, eyes a glow with the possibility. Solona spared a moment to smile at her friend- _always a romantic_ \- before turning her attention back to her fellow Warden. 

“I’m sure Arl Eamon or Queen Anora would like to have something to remember him by,” Solona said softly. 

Alistair shook his head. “Well, I am not taking it. Gold is definitely not my color. We will see if anyone in the Dalish Camp is going towards Denerim. Anora should have her husband’s armor.”

His words settled the argument although Morrigan muttered something about foolish Wardens. Solona wondered if she should make sure the woman was doing okay. She had said she was fine after they killed her mother, but perhaps that was just her putting on a brave face. Looking back at Alistair, Solona sighed. 

_One thing at a time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is a section of the Chant that is used for funerals, but this part that Cullen says works much better in my opinion.


	31. Now Cracks a Noble Heart

Her knees hit the ground before she even realized she was falling. A split second later, her palms slammed into the cold stone as well, jolting her bones. She stared at the cracked floor, wondering what went wrong. _What had even happened?_ It had seemed so simple. Kill a wolf and save the elves. Now…

Now Zathrian was dead. The Lady was dead. The werewolves were gone, back to their human forms. It was the best solution, but it had taken so much death to get here. Danyla, the rabid werewolves, various Dalish Solona didn’t even know the names of… _And for what purpose?_ Revenge. 

She could hear her friends talking amongst themselves and then footsteps trailed off, leaving a single presence. Solona didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. 

“Is the whole world like this?” She asked, fingers pressing into the stone cracks.

“Let me think...Old, ruined, and elvish? Nope. It only seems like that because you’re a Warden. We don’t really go anywhere that isn't dark, dank, and full of darkspawn,” Alistair said, placing his hand on her back and moving it in slow circles.

Solona couldn’t even respond to his remarks. “Alistair, I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

He stopped moving. “Do what?”

“Be a Warden.”

She felt him crouch down next to her, hand tightening. “You would leave?”

“No. I… can’t do that. I just… Alistair… This journey is destroying me.”

“What do you mean?”

Solona sighed and sat up, resting her chin on her knees. Alistair automatically put his arm around her. “All my life I’ve tried to be optimistic, to see the best in others. But I’ve seen so many people do horrible things, I don’t think I can stay the person I am and survive the Blight. I need to be harder.”

“You’re already a diamond, how much harder do you want to be?” Alistair attempted another joke to get her to smile but she was too discouraged to even look at him.

“I need to stop trusting people automatically. You guys probably think I’m naïve and I am. But now that’s done. I will look at people with normal eyes, not assuming a friendship where none exists. Loghain, Irving, Jowan, and now Zathrian. It… hurts too much… I can’t keep trusting people who will betray me, Alistair. I just… can’t.”

Her fellow Warden didn’t speak for a long time. Solona stared at the ruins, her normal curiosity completely washed away. Ancient elven artifacts and writings surrounded her, and she couldn’t care. That, if nothing else, said something was wrong with her. 

“After we spoke to Goldanna, I was ready to change myself in order to survive the pain.” Alistair’s normal cheerful voice was subdued. His arm was warm, a strong presence amidst the coldness of her mind. After a moment’s hesitation, Solona entangled her fingers with his.

“But you talked me down from that edge and reminded me that I couldn’t control what others thought of me. Goldanna… may not have been a warm welcome but at least now I know.”

Solona gripped his fingers tighter, turning her head to look at him. He was serious, brown eyes sinking into her. Something that had been building since she saw the templars outside the Circle’s basement eased slightly. 

“It isn’t bad to care. Our little party and the alliances we have made wouldn’t exist without you. When you trust strangers, you make them better. Your optimism makes these Blight-filled days bearable,” Alistair said, hugging her. Solona closed her eyes in his embrace. 

“Please don’t feel like you have to change. I… like you the way you are.”

Solona smiled a little and buried her face into his armor, ignoring the blood smears. 

“Alright, Alistair,” she said. “I will try to remain positive. It can’t get any worse, right?”

Her Warden laughed.

“Right.”


	32. Teach Me, Dear Elf, How to Think and Speak

Solona concentrated on Zevran’s face, forcing herself not to listen to the words he was saying. Despite her intentions, her face burned. Would he ever stop talking? Her hands in his shook with the effort of not moving. It was hard to listen to… _Maker…_

“And then when a woman cannot take it anymore, her face whipping in ecstasy, I will slide a finger into---“

_Nope! Don’t listen! Don’t even think about that. Especially not with Alistair…_

Her fingers betrayed her, jerking back but her wrists managed to stay still. Zevran paused, grinning at her. 

“Are you alright there, my lovely Warden? Getting a little red I see. Shall I tell you what Alistair wishes he was brave enough to do to you?”

Solona didn’t know if she could survive that. Instead, she said, “I think it’s my turn.” 

Laughter joined the firelight shimmering in golden eyes. “So it is. Do your worst, my dear. Or should I say your best.”

_Stay calm. You can do this. Just because he was raised in a brothel doesn’t mean you can’t win this… Maybe we need a new game._

“So I take your hand---“

Zevran sighed dramatically. Solona tried to continue on.

“And I place it on my… robe.”

The elf closed his eyes and pretended to snore.

_Well, this isn’t working. Again._

“Did you know I found some new plants today?” She asked, trying to wake him up at least. There was no rule that they had to stay on topic. 

“There were several ones that I couldn’t quite figure out what they were and I was wondering if you could help me. First there was this one with a white bell-like flower. The—“

“Crystal Grace.”

Solona smiled at her friend. “That is a beautiful name for it. Thank you. Then there was this one, also with white flowers, kind of tall, with leaves that tilted upwards like a fern. It smelled interesting, so I rubbed it over my skin.”

Zevran eyes widened and he let go of her hands, jumping to his feet. “Solona! That’s Deathroot! Are you trying to kill us?”

Her laughter made him pause. She grinned. “I win.”

“That’s….” The elf was speechless. Solona laughed again, unable to believe that actually worked. She thought Zevran would have seen through her ruse. 

She got to her feet and still laughing, ran over to where Alistair, Sten, and Archon were sitting. Alistair glanced up at her and she flung herself at him, arms around his neck. He automatically hugged her back, asking what happened. Solona responded by kissing him. He was startled but that didn’t stop him from returning the kiss with interest. 

Sten said something and then it was just the two of them. Solona barely noticed, heat like lava running through her limbs. She broke the kiss, breathless and Alistair grinned at her.

“Shall we get away from camp for a little bit? I’m sure Wynne won’t mind if we volunteer to take the first watch.”

Solona’s gaze traveled from Alistair’s eyes, to his lips, and then back to his warm brown eyes. “Sounds good.”


	33. For There was Never Yet the Person that Could Endure the Dwarf Patiently

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive my bad jokes. They are so hard to resist sometimes.

_No wonder these are abandoned,_ Solona thought crossly, climbing over an old dwarven pillar. Her foot caught in a crack but Alistair kept her from falling and twisting something. She squeezed his hand and then started walking again. The sooner they found Branka the sooner they could get out of here.

Someone burped.

“Why must you be so revolting, dwarf? If I see one more brume of odious toxins forming behind you, I will turn you into a toad,” Morrigan said, angry.

“It’s what gives me my manly appeal. You know you want some,” Oghren replied. 

Morrigan made gagging noises. “I’d almost rather kiss Alistair.”

Alistair muttered under his breathe. 

“I understand. Pike-twirler lacks a certain…”

“Could we please stop talking about this?” Alistair asked, ears darkening.

“Certainly,” Oghren agreed and belched loudly. 

“That’s it!” Morrigan said, pulling her staff off the strap on her back. “’Tis time your interior and exterior matched. 

Alistair let go of Solona’s hand, whirling around to face the apostate. “Sten, stop her!” 

The large Qunari reached for Morrigan but she avoided him, hurling a bolt of ice at the dwarf. Oghren dove to the side, the icicle nearly impaling him. Sten got his arms around the Witch of the Wilds and pulled her off her feet. 

“Put me down,” she said, the calm tones more frightening than if she had screamed. Frost started climbing up the Qunari’s arm, but the large man didn’t even flinch. Alistair looked at the apostate, brows tightening. Solona felt the cleansing in the air, stripping away the ever present magic. Morrigan slumped slightly.

Wynne glared at them all. “Would you all just be quiet? Please, acting like a bunch of children. Just because we’ve been stuck in a cave doesn’t mean that we need to lose our minds.”

“Because you’re the sanest one here, of course,” Leliana muttered. “And would you stop looking over your shoulder, Zev? It’s making me jumpy.”

“You’d be less jumpy with an arrow in your throat so I will continue to make sure nothing is behind us,” the assassin replied. 

Solona listened to her friends bicker, their voices growing louder. Excited by the noise,Archon started darting between legs, barking.

Glaring at her hands, Solona cast several spells almost simultaneously, weaving them together in a complex pattern. She took a breath and digging in her heels, threw the spell out in a rippling wave around her. 

Lightning intermixed with healing magic struck the party members, distracting them from their arguments. 

“Stop it!” Solona yelled in the sudden silence. The echoes of her voice reverberated through the tunnels. _Too much?_ Her face heated and she glanced away, determination gone as quickly as it had come. “Please. Don’t fight.”

A few moments beat by as the group assessed her. 

Finally Leliana sighed. “These tunnels must be getting to us. Zev, I’m sorry for snapping at you.” The assassin brought her hand to his lips. “How could I not forgive one so lovely?”

The rest of the group’s tension slowly dropped as if shrugging off a boulder. Relieved, Solona started to smile when she heard a rumble. Archon growled. 

Oghren groaned. “Look what you’ve done. The darkspawn heard us. Hope everyone’s weapons are as sharp as their tongues.”

Wynne and Solona created balls of light, flinging them in opposite directions. Shapes moved in the shadows and the darkspawn were upon them. 

The battle was swift, flashes of color from the mages and the clang of steel meeting steel a medley of stimuli. Then it was over and Solona scanned the area, eyes trailing over twisted forms for something familiar. 

Zevran was on the ground, front of his armor dark. Solona was at Wynne’s side in an instant, healing magic at her fingertips. 

“You’re an idiot. Who jumps in front of a blade?” Wynne chastised the elf. He laughed, a raspy sound. “I didn’t want some darkspawn to ruin that fine body of yours. What a waste that would be.” 

Wynne frowned at him but shifted slightly so Solona could help channel the power. 

Leliana knelt on Zevran’s other side, holding his hand. “Of all the times you decide to be brave.”

“Oh, I’m always brave. You just don’t understand the bravery of a tactical retreat.”

The sister smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She searched the assassin’s face then relaxed slightly. Instead, she began to sing softly, almost a croon. Zevran closed his eyes, crinkles of pain smoothing.

“Shadows fall and hope has fled,  
Steel your heart- the dawn will come.  
The night is long and the path is dark.  
Look to the sky, for one day soon  
The dawn will come.”

Wynne smiled at the redhead as she finished sealing the wound. “Thank you Leliana. That was beautiful.”

“Great song and all,” Oghren agreed, red bread shaking as he nodded. “And I hate to burst your bouncy breasts, but there is no dawn beneath the surface. It’s always dark down here.”

Morrigan smiled. “The dwarf finally says something reasonable. Singing does not solve everything.”


	34. Both are Infinite

They could hear the marching almost a dozen turns down the tunnels. Solona didn’t quite believe that’s what it was, but the rest of the party was sure. As they got closer, it became undeniable. Shouts began to rebound through the darkness, putting everyone on edge. Leliana and Zevran scouted ahead. Only Leliana returned, slightly pale. 

“You need to see this,” she said, directing them forward. 

The tunnel opened up into an impossibly large space. Solona couldn’t see the end but she couldn’t even sense the ceiling. Orzammar had been impressive but this natural cave put it to shame. Leliana led them to the edge of the rift and Alistair grabbed her hand to keep her from falling. It was a good thing he did because when Solona looked down, her knees went weak.

Thousands upon thousands of darkspawn marched through the large rift that was more like a canyon than a simple crack in the stone. It was hard to count the number of heads but based on torches, this was an army.

“So this is what you are planning on stopping?” Oghren asked, impressed. “You Wardens are crazier than I thought.”

Solona squeezed Alistair’s hand, unable to form coherent thoughts. _How could they…so many….a Blight…_ She hoped that the darkspawn couldn’t sense them.

“I love you, Solona.” The words tickled her ears and she blinked, turning towards Alistair.

“What?” _He couldn’t have said what she thought he said._

Her fellow Warden looked down at her, completely ignoring the fact that they weren’t alone. “I love you. I… just wanted you to know that. It’s probably too soon but looking out at this… I don’t want to die without saying it.”

Solona’s mouth was dry. _He loved her?_ Emotions fluttered in her chest and her stomach clenched into a tight ball. 

“I love you too, Alistair.”

He smiled, darkness lifting from his eyes. Leaning down, he kissed her, strong and warm. Solona let one of his hands go so she could wrap her arm around his neck, pulling him closer. 

Someone- _Leliana?_ \- 'aww'ed and Solona broke away, blushing. Alistair grinned, face turning red in the dim light. 

“Alright, now that we got that awkward bit out of the way, let’s go save the world.”


	35. What's Done Can't Be Undone

“Why do people want to be involved in politics?” Alistair complained as they left the Chamber of the Assembly. “I feel like I’m going to explode as soon as they start talking.”

Leliana laughed, stealing something from Zevran’s pocket only to have him steal it back. “If you think that is bad, never go to Orlais. The Game is an art to them, not just a means to an end.”

“No wonder we had a civil war,” Alistair muttered, reaching out to hold Solona’s hand. She smiled at him, the feeling she now could acknowledge as love fluttering.

“But Alistair,” Wynne cut in. “Why did you and Solona choose to give Caridin’s crown to Prince Bhelen? Of the two, I thought Harrowmont seemed like the more gracious king. Bhelen just killed whoever got in his way. Harrowmont would have made a more peaceful transition.”

“He just seemed like the better candidate. You saw Dust Town. The caste system is destroying those people from the moment they are born. No one deserves to be labeled like that.”

Solona kissed his hand as Alistair’s voice grew slightly bitter. “You remember Zerlinda,” she added. “A mother shouldn’t have to go through that kind of situation. The system needs to change.”

“You are all so uninspiring,” Zevran commented. “We Crows are vastly patriotic.”

Morrigan laughed. “A group of assassins, patriotic? Two words that are rarely put together.”

“How are the Crows involved with politics?” Solona asked, curious. _Did they make posters or attend rallies?_

“The usual way. We take contracts to kill the various contestants for the throne.”

Alistair snorted. “Again, why would anyone want to be in politics?”

“The thrill, my least favorite Warden. When there are no candidates, the Crows take to killing those we think _should_ run. It is a very good system really.”

“Uh huh… I hate politics.”


	36. To Seek Their Fortunes Farther than at Home

“Do the templars really have the ability to ‘smite’ a mage? I’ve heard about it but I would love to see it in action. How do you think that works exactly? Oh, and what is the Fade like? I want all the details.”

Solona grinned. “Yes, it breaks off our connection to the Fade. Scary but amazing. It’s all green and gravity doesn’t work quite right. For my Harrowing---“

Alistair cut in, eyebrows angling down in harsh lines. “Are you two really going to talk about magic the entire way to the Circle?” He looked at Solona, slightly exasperated. She blushed slightly, she hadn’t been giving him much attention since Dagna joined their party. The dwarf had so many questions and her curiosity about magic was infectious. 

Dagna didn’t seem fazed by Alistair’s question. “If Solona doesn’t mind. This is my first time meeting a mage, I just can’t help but be excited.”

The Warden made a face but drifted off to walk next to Sten, allowing Dagna and Solona to continue their discussion. 

Part-way through examining the side branches of magic, Solona caught a glimpse of the dark-haired apostate. 

“Morrigan!” She called, waving. The apostate raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly, and walked over. 

“What can I help you with, friend?”

Solona’s hand moved from Dagna to herself and back again. “We were just talking about magic-usage and I realized that you must have a completely different opinion on any number of subjects.” As an introduction, she said, “Morrigan was the one who taught me how to shape-shift although she is far better than I am at it.”

“I simply had more time to watch the animals and learn their ways. You have done well for what little time you’ve had.”

Dagna’s eyes were large and she stopped walking to bounce a little. “Are you an apostate?”

“If you are asking if I refuse to be bound in a cage like some wayward mutt, then yes, I am an apostate.”

“I have so many questions!” Solona grinned at the dwarf’s enthusiasm and even Morrigan laughed. “Then I will do my best to answer.”

Confident both of her friends were happily distracted, Solona changed her direction in order to talk to Alistair. On the way she paused, trying hard not to laugh.

Leliana and Zevran were playing cards. While walking. Somehow they had convinced Archon to act as their table, strapping a leather harness of sorts on his back where they could place the cards. The image was so ridiculous, Solona had to cover her mouth or else she might hurt Archon’s feelings. 

Zevran laughed suddenly, triumphant. “And I win this round. Never play cards against an assassin.”

The sister’s eyebrow rose. “Oh really? And here I thought I was victorious.” She flashed him a single card and Zevran swore. 

“Bards.”

Solona blinked. Although the word was said irritably, there was a look in the elf’s eyes was familiar…. _It was like Alistair’s when he smiled at her._

Unable to help herself, Solona grinned and turned away to give them some semblance of privacy. _They deserve some happiness._ Both had such difficult lives, that they could find someone to make their burden lighter spoke volumes. 

Alistair laughed and kiss her cheek when she approached him. “Got tired of talking about magic? That’s a first. Here I thought I was just going to be second best to your true… um… affection.”

Delighted with her discovery of her friends’ budding relationship, Solona said, “Perhaps I just missed you.

Alistair changed colors and Solona looked away. 

“Well… I am happy to hear that,” Alistair said softly. He took a hold of her hand. “But on another note, I thought we had discussed not picking up strays?”

Solona glanced at him, face still warm. “What?”

Alistair nodded behind them. Oghren was singing drunkenly to a worn-looking Wynne. 

“Oghren isn’t a stray, he’s…”

“A drunk dwarf who could use regular bathing.”

“He’s an honest person.”

The Warden’s grin startled her. “I think you’re an honest person. That’s the problem. But at least we won’t be making too many more stops. We have all our allies now. Soon we can take Loghain down and end this Blight. Based on the last few months, it should be a breeze.”


	37. What Private Griefs She has, alas, He Knows Not

Solona bit her lip, staring into the fire. _Cullen was gone._ Dagna’s introduction into the Circle had gone well, Irving seemed happy to have someone so excited to help get the Circle in order again. _But Cullen…_

She didn’t know what she had been hoping would happen. See the old Cullen again, the one with the nervous smiles. Make sure he hadn’t been too… damaged. But that was impossible now. 

Heavy footsteps approached her spot and Solona debated hiding. _Maybe if she made an ice fort…_

Sten sat next to her, too quiet for someone his size. After a moment, he pulled his sword in front of him and began to clean it. Her eye caught the movement, its rhythm calming. 

“Do you miss your people?” Solona asked finally, stretching. Sten didn’t pause his ministrations. “Yes.”

“Do you think you will return after all this is over?”

“Most likely. I have much to tell them.”

“Do you think I’ll ever see you again?” Solona studied her feet, already missing the silent giant. 

Sten paused his work to look at her. “I won’t pretend to know the way the world works. We might meet again, Kadan. We might not.”

Solona nodded slowly and carefully, resting her head on his stone hard arm. He continued wiping his blade and she relaxed into the position. 

Cullen was gone and there was nothing she could do about it. But Sten was right. Perhaps she would see him again. And it’s not like they couldn’t communicate. Solona smiled slightly. She had never had someone to write letters to before. Now she had Cullen _and_ Sten.

Standing, she kissed Sten on his head. The Qunari blinked, as surprised as she’d ever seen him. 

“Thank you, Sten. You are a good friend.”

Sten’s expression lightened and he almost smiled. “It is nothing, Kadan. Here.” And he handed her a cookie.


	38. To Smooth that Rough Touch with a Tender Kiss

Cool blue magic flowed beneath her fingers, a calm focus point. She didn’t want to see the bodies around them. Morrigan’s comment about disaster turning men into animals crossed her mind. _There are certainly more bandits then before._

Alistair gasped as she closed the wound on his side. “That’s what I get for standing still in a fight,” he said, joke ruined as he winced. 

Solona leaned back on her heels. “I’m sorry. I only have enough mana to heal it down to a bruise. Morrigan has some salve and bandages, I think. I can go get some.”

“They’re probably poisoned particularly for me,” Alistair muttered.

Unable to help herself, Solona laughed, smoothing some hair away from his forehead. “She isn’t as bad as you think.”

“You’d say that about anyone.”

Solona frowned at him, lip twitching. “No. There has to be someone….” She thought about it. _Did she think anyone was actually a bad person?_ Loghain possibly. But what if he had simply seen a losing fight and didn’t want to sacrifice his men like everyone had been saying? She didn’t know.

Alistair’s gaze drew her from her thoughts. He was focused on her face, emotions flickering. 

“Are you alright, Alistair?”

“Yes. I mean no… I mean, yes.” He sighed and looked away, rubbing his arm. “It’s just that I wanted to… ask you something, but when I am around you I can’t think straight.”

Something on her face made him react, “Not that it’s bad or anything, or maybe… I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. It’s just, I love you and I can’t really imagine my life without you and… I want to spend the night with you.”

Solona blushed at the sincerity of his sentiment, a bit confused at why he was asking. “Of course. You don’t need to ask. We’ve spent many nights together.”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant, although I do enjoy that as well but… Agh.”

Alistair sat up, wincing as his bruise rubbed against his armor. “I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to ask you but I don’t think there will be a perfect time. Either of us could die tomorrow or the next day. It’s amazing we’ve both made it this far and… I don’t want to continue on without being with you… in that way.”

Solona knew she was missing something. What could he be talking about? Something that they would do together… _Oh._

She looked down at her hands, a horde of rampaging butterflies exploding in her gut. She had never considered that they’d actually- well, she had _thought_ about it, after playing that game with Zevran, it was hard not to-but it was always something would happen distantly in the future. Not _now_. Not _here_. 

Alistair was still talking, compounding the awkwardness. “You know that I’ve never done… it… before but…” He suddenly sounded surer. “I want it to be with you.”

_Could she? Did she even want to? She loved Alistair but this…_

“Solona?”

She looked up into the brown eyes that never failed to make her feel safe. He was worried about her. “I’m sorry to ask this is in such a… I feel like I’m all hands…. I don’t want to mess this up.”

He seemed so crestfallen she took his hands, so much larger than hers, and pulled them into her lap. “Alistair, I…” What could she say? Thoughts of Zevran’s descriptions, Morrigan’s tales of conquests, and the noises than came from Leliana’s tent some nights flashed through her mind, aggravating the butterflies further. “I want to… but I’m scared.”

“Oh, I’m… You don’t need to be frightened, Solona. You can say no and I will still love you. You could say you hated cheese and I would still want to spend the rest of my days with you. It’s all your decision.” His words came out in a rush, his cheeks turning red even as he looked away.

Solona turned one of his hands in her own, tracing the palm. One of the butterflies seemed to have gotten trapped in her throat. She peeked up at Alistair and took a deep breathe. 

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” Alistair asked, fingers clasping hers. 

Solona brought his hand to her lips, kissing it gently. “I am.” A pause for more air. “I love you, Alistair.”

“I love you too, Solona.”


	39. Let Lips Do What Hands Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was going for adorably awkward... and I think I nailed the awkward bit... Hope you are not offended nor disappointed.

“So… how do we…”

“I don’t really know. How about we…”

A yelp.

“Sorry, sorry! I forgot I left that there. I’ll just move that… This is awkward, how about we just start simple and see where it goes. Come here, let me hold you.”

….

“Would you mind… if we took off our clothes? I would…ah… like to see you.”

“That... might be important.”

…

“How do you even get this off? There are so many buckles!”

“Too much practice. Would you believe the templars had sessions where we would have to quickly put it on and off? Over and over… Your robes are much better.”

…

“You are so beautiful, Solona. I don’t know how I became so lucky to have someone like you love me back. Hey, there is no need to hide!”

…

“Ready? If it hurts, just let me know and I’ll stop.”

“Okay.”

...

“Andraste preserve me! Solona… I…”

….

“Is it always so…”

“I don’t think so. But maybe with practice, I’ll be able to… That is, if I didn’t blotch this up too badly.”

Quiet laughter.

“I love you, Alistair.”

“I love you too and that isn’t really an answer… Ah. That is a good answer.”

...

"Do you know what the Chantry says will happen after... that? Yes? Well, I didn't think I'd actually get struck by lightning-- ouch! That really hurt, look! I know, to make it up to me let's see if we can get you to create more lightning."

Laughter

"Or you're right. We can just cuddle. That works too. No more lightning tonight. Tomorrow looks stormy though... Haha alright, I'll stop. There... This is comfortable."


	40. That Makes These Odds All Even

Blood was everywhere. Dripping, gushing, red liquid life. Everywhere. 

Metal hit the stone ground and her hand felt suddenly empty. _So much blood. She couldn’t…_

She had killed someone.

Barely able to move to the side of the room, she threw up, heaving as her body decided just how much it wanted to get rid of. 

“There there,” Morrigan said, awkwardly patting her back. 

Solona put her hands on her knees, eyes closed. She took a deep breath through her mouth, held it, and then released. A few more times convinced her body that she was not in fact dying and she slowly straightened. Morrigan handed her a handkerchief. 

“’Twas a good thing you did,” the apostate said almost conversationally. “That man was responsible for enslaving dozens of elves and probably many more besides. Death may have been too kind for one such as he, but it was no more than he deserved.”

“I killed a person, Morrigan,” Solona whispered, unable to fully voice the fact. “Not by magic or from far away. I saw the life drain from his eyes.”

“That is generally what happens when someone dies,” Morrigan said, sliding her staff back into its strap. 

“What if he had a family? People who cared about him? I’ve taken away their loved one,” Solona felt herself begin to panic. 

“Does it matter?”

Solona whirled on the witch. “Of course it does!”

Yellow eyes peered into hers. “Would you have changed your actions had you known? Would you have let him kill you instead?”

“Well… no.”

“Then it doesn’t matter. You had a choice and you made it. So did he. You cannot change it and so there is no point in regretting it.”

Solona bit her lip, refusing to look at the body. “That seems a bit harsh.”

Morrigan laughed, starting to walk away. “That is life, my friend.”


	41. Do We Not Bleed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: attempted rape

Solona’s head felt like it had been used as a practice dummy. That could be the only explanation for why it hurt so badly. _What had happened?_

It hit her in a flash of pain both physical and emotional. _Queen Anora had…_ There had been guards accusing her of harming the queen and when Solona had told them the queen was right here, Anora turned on her. 

She trusted someone automatically, _again_. After Zathrian, she thought she was done with that. Turns out it was easier to make to a decision to change than actually to change. 

The click of boots roused her from her thoughts, dragging her head up. A guard was approaching her cage. A shiver of fear crept down her back. The guard’s eyes lingered on certain areas, like she wasn’t even wearing her robe.

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” the guard said, keys jingling as he withdrew them.

Solona crawled back, hand searching for a weapon. There was hardly even a rock in her small prison. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Solona could feel her magic but it was faint, her headache making it difficult to concentrate. _She could still fight._

The guard entered the cell, shutting the door behind him. He seemed larger in the tight space, red-tinged armor glinting. 

Back against the wall, Solona slowly stood, watching the guard for any sudden movements. He grinned at her, his teeth noticeably unclean. “There is no need to be difficult, sweetheart. I promise, this will be quick. You might even enjoy it.” Then he lunged at her. 

Solona dodged, Zevran’s training enough that she could slap the man’s grasping hands away. He laughed and was suddenly on top of her, knocking her breath out as she was slammed to the ground. The man used this opportunity to kiss her, tongue seeking.

She bit him.

Reeling back, the guard hit her. She cried out as stars flared behind her eyes.

“None of that now,” someone said and there was pressure on her chest. _Wrong! Not Alistair!_

Something pressed between her knees, forcing them apart. _Nononono_ , Solona thought, searching for her magic. 

She squirmed, trying to throw the man off of her. He responded by grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head with one of his own. Solona arched her back, pulling at her living restraints. 

“Getting excited are we?” The guard laughed, pawing at her chest again. 

Tears began to leak from Solona’s eyes. _This couldn’t be happening._ Her robes went higher and she increased her struggles. 

The guard tugged at her smalls and sparks skittered across her fingers. Without pausing to think, she pressed them against the hand holding her, causing the man to jerk.

_More._

Solona concentrated, sending spikes of pain into her skull. It was enough. She drew a streak of lightning in front of her, slamming the guard against metal bars, the jars of it echoing through the large chamber. 

_She needed to get out of here!_

Stumbling slightly, she riffled through the guard’s armor. He was stunned, for now. _How did the rogues make it look so easy to loot people?_

Finally finding the keys half-tucked into his belt, Solona unlocked the cell door and glanced around. She had no idea where she was, but getting out seemed like as good of an idea as any. Scurrying through an area that held empty cells and red tables- _don’t think about it. The prison designers just like the color_ \- she listened for any sign of life. There had to be more guards around. 

So when she ran into a small squad of four guards, she supposed she was lucky to find them all at once. As they drew their weapons, Solona cast a Torrent, electrocuting them in their metal armor. Sparks jumped between them, escalating the spell. 

Receiving a few shocks herself, Solona raced by them, somehow managing not to trip spectacularly. Angry dwarves swung battleaxes inside her head, making it hard to think straight. Shouts trailed after her as she ran but the people responsible couldn’t get their muscles to respond properly. _How was she going to get out of here?_

Several twists and turns and badly cast spells later, Solona was truly lost. It was as if the prison was designed to keep people from escaping. 

A door nearby opened and she pressed against the wall, hoping to avoid another fight.

“If you know which way she would have gone, enlighten us,” an Antivan accented voice said. “I have better things to do than wander in antagonistic fortresses.”

_It couldn’t be…_

“I can’t believe you think finding Isabella is more important than rescuing Solona.” An equally familiar Orlesian voice said.

“More important? No. More enjoyable? Certainly.” 

“Leliana! Zevran!” Solona shouted, rushing towards her friends.

She slammed into metal arms. Zevran laughed, hugging her tight. “My favorite Grey Warden. If you were interested in bondage, you could have just said something. I would be more than happy to tie you up for a while.”

Solona buried her face in the elf’s shoulder, laughing a bit hysterically. “I’ll let you know.”


	42. If You Poison Us

Anora seemed pleased with herself when the mage walked into the room. Solona suddenly had the urge to hit the queen, but before she could, strong arms whisked her off her feet, squeezing the air out of her lungs.

“Thank the Maker you’re alright!” Alistair murmured into her neck. “Perhaps all those years in the Chantry were good for something after all.”

The whirlwind of emotion that began in the prison cell settled to a strong breeze. “Alistair…”

“Would you set her down? I need to check for injuries,” Wynne said from somewhere nearby. Alistair held on for a second longer, then slowly lowered her to the ground. Brown eyes studied her face, noting the scratches and then trailed down to the tear on the bottom of her robe. 

“I’m fine,” Solona told him, brushing fingertips down the side of his cheek. He clearly didn’t believe her but he allowed Wynne to take over, healing blue light covering her hands. Drawing a breath, Solona spoke louder so everyone in the room could hear her. “Though I would have been better if Anora hadn’t turned me over to the guards.”

“She what?” Alistair whirled on his brother’s wife.

“When you tell enemy soldiers of my presence, you leave me no choice.”

“So you send her to the barracks where she could have been killed?” Alistair tried to advance on the queen but Solona held him back.

Arl Eamon stroked his beard, taking in the situation. “Queen Anora might have been hasty, but she did what she had to. Alistair, Anora, everyone, I would like to speak with the Warden for few moments.”

There was some mutterings but the room cleared. 

“Can I help you, Arl Eamon?” Solona asked, at least trying to make an effort. “Wynne is better at healing and Leliana can manipulate the Landsmeet like she plays her lute, but whatever I can do, just ask.”

The older man thanked her politely, staring at the ceiling. 

“You know who Alistair’s father is, correct?” She nodded.

“Anora is a good ruler, she has basically been controlling the country since she married Cailan. But now that the king is dead, her basis for rule is tenuous at best. We need Theirin blood to solidify it. Teagan and I are related by marriage, but if we went for the throne, we would be seen as grasping.”

Solona nodded again, not understanding what this had to do with her. 

Arl Eamon sighed. “There is no easy way to ask you this, but I need you to convince Alistair to marry Anora and assume the throne.”

All thoughts stuttered to a stop. _Alistair… and Anora?_

“D…did you ask them about… this?” She asked, not wanting to believe what she was hearing.

“Anora didn’t like it, but she will agree if it means keeping her throne.”

“And... and Alistair?”

The arl seemed annoyed. “He said no. Repeatedly. But he is young and doesn’t know what he wants. All he needs is someone he trusts to tell him that he should.”

When she didn’t react, he continued. “I need you to get Alistair to agree to this. I know you have… affections… for each other, but for the future of Ferelden, you must let him go.”

_Let Alistair… with Anora…_

“I…” Solona wasn’t sure what to say. She hadn’t known Alistair very long but… she didn’t want to live without him. She swallowed. “I…I fought a dragon for you… I walked through fire for you and asked my friend to risk her life in the Fade to save your son. And now you ask me to give up the man I love?”

Arl Eamon shifted, face growing resolute. “It—“

“No,” Solona tightened her hands in her robes, pain and tiredness fueling her anger. “If you want Alistair to be king, convince him yourself.”

Before the arl could try to convince her otherwise, she fled. Ignoring concerned expressions from her friends, she ran to the room that had been given her, shutting the door behind her. She flung herself on the bed, a fleeting enjoyment of having a mattress. 

There was a knock at the door.

“Solona?”

 _Not now,_ Solona thought at him. She needed to… think. 

“Archon is glaring at me. Could you make him… stop? It’s kind of eerie.”

Her lips twitched.

“I’m not a steak, dog. I’m a Warden. I’m pretty sure we aren’t that tasty. Taint and all… Solona? Anytime now…”

Her feet ghosted over to the door and it opened. Alistair and Archon were staring at each other, the Warden down at the dog’s level. He grinned at her, a bit sheepish. Something in her face made him frown and stand up.

“Are you okay?”

Even if she was decent at lying, she didn’t know if she could, or even wanted to, deceive Alistair.

“Arl Eamon… asked me to do something.”

“Did he ask you to become king too? Because if so, that’s kind of awkward.”

Solona crossed her arms over her chest as if that could protect her from the pain. “He wanted me to get you to marry Anora.”

Alistair scowled, the expression strange on his usual cheerful face. “I can’t believe he would try to get you to do that.” Rubbing his forehead, he said, “But you know how I feel on the subject. I don’t want to be with Anora, I want to be with you. Plus there would be crown hair. Ick.”

Her laughter started somewhere in her gut and it grew till it burst from her lips. Alistair grinned and hugged her. 

“You don’t need to worry. I won’t leave you. Anora can have the crown and the throne. I will have you. Sounds like a good deal.”

Warm brown eyes met wet brown eyes and Solona held him tighter. He rugged tight circles into her back, kissing the top of her head. “I love you. Don’t let Arl Eamon get to you.”

He kept repeating the reassurances but Solona stopped listening to the specifics, enjoying the sound of his voice. His arms were around her and there was no one trying to hurt her. Compared to the last few days, it was perfect.


	43. And If You Wrong Us, Shall We Not Revenge?

“It shall be fought according to tradition: a test of arms in single combat until one party yields. And we who are assembled will abide by the outcome,” the noblewoman declared to the Landsmeet. 

The Hero of River Dane looked over the people in the room, betrayal carving lines into his face as Solona watched. “Fine.” Tired, angry eyes burned into her. “Will you fight me or will you use a champion?”

“I will fight you,” Alistair said, stepping forward from where he had been standing with the rest of their party. 

“The would-be king.” Loghain laughed. “That is appropriate. Blood will tell, they say. Shall we see how thick Maric’s blood really is?”

Solona glanced at Alistair. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do. You won the debate for us, I will win the duel. That makes you the brains and me the brawn, right?”

Solona laughed but it didn’t feel right. She was still shaking from convincing the nobles with the evidence they had gathered. _That puts public speaking out of my future._ “Will you… be careful?” Her hands fluttered, unsure.

Alistair grinned, taking them in his own. “In a duel against a legendary warrior? Of course, dear lady.” With that, he walked to meet Loghain.

The years might have slowed the Hero but he was still a powerful fighter. As Loghain beat against Alistair’s defenses, Solona’s knees weakened. She didn’t know if she could watch Alistair get hurt without doing something.

“It’ll be alright,” Leliana said. “Calm down.” Solona looked down at her hands. White sparks were flashing from her fingertips. She clenched her hands into fists but that made the sparks become a trickle. 

Loghain knocked Alistair on his back and raised his sword to strike. Alistair just managed to roll out of the way. _She couldn’t do this._

A hand on her shoulder. Leliana. Morrigan stood close to her right. “Don’t worry. Alistair is not so foolish that he would fall in battle.” 

The rest of their small group fell in behind her, protecting her from enemies unseen. Solona blinked harder. She could ask for no better friends.

It was a hard fight, but Alistair’s youth triumphed over experience. He stood over the man who had betrayed both the Grey Wardens and his king. Face like stone, Alistair struck and Solona closed her eyes as the body fell. It was over.


	44. All the World's Hundred-Word Drabbles

_No!_

Solona might have cried, but white noise drowned out any sound so she couldn’t be sure. _This couldn’t be happening… After everything they had done…_

“What do you mean it’s heading towards the capital?” Leliana demanded. “How could you miss an entire darkspawn army?”

_So many people… what could they do?_

“If we march hard, we can get there in three days.”

Solona looked up at the arl. _How did she end up on the ground?_ “What about Denerim?”

Arl Eamon sighed. “They will just have to survive until we get there.”

_We were too late. Always too late._

oOo

Solona leaned against the wall, emotions becoming too much for her. _First Denerim, than Riordan, and now Morrigan…_ A part of her wanted to curl up and never awaken, but her friends and allies trusted her. She couldn’t let them down.

 _But…_ she had to persuade Alistair to sleep with Morrigan.

Straightening with a deep breath, she pushed herself off the wall, heading towards his room.

“Alistair,” Solona began, hating that she had to ask this of him and hating that the other choices were worse. “Do you have a minute?”

Her love smiled. “For you? I have a lifetime.”


	45. In Nature There's No Blemish But the Mind

She was avoiding him. She pretended that she wasn’t- _she had things to do, people to talk to_ -but when they stopped late into the night, setting up tents, she found an excuse to be somewhere else. Before they had slept together and now… now she spent the dark hours curled up with Archon, hiding her face in his fur.

“I’ve never seen the templar look so… pathetic before,” Morrigan commented mid-morning on the second day. “He is usually pathetic, but he usually doesn’t quite appear it. He usually has that idiotic grin firmly on his face.” 

Solona itched her arm, not able to look at her friend. It was just… awkward. She opened her mouth, searching for words, and found nothing. Morrigan treated the silence as an answer and they continued walking. 

Sten gave her cookies and Oghren offered her his ale. She took a swig and spent the next several minutes coughing. Wynne spoke encouraging words that didn’t quite make the mark and Zevran tried to make her laugh as they sparred before bed. Leliana didn’t say anything, a comforting presence as Solona warred with conflicting feelings. 

She shouldn’t blame him. She had asked him to do this, and yet… He had been with another woman. Not just a stranger, but a friend. How could she act like nothing had happened? When they kissed, how could she not imagine the last woman he had done that with? It was just too much. She needed time to process it all.

But they didn’t have time.

On the morning of the third day, Arl Eamon gathered the leaders of the assembled alliances so that they could plan what would happen when they got to the capital. Words floated above her head as she tried to peek at Alistair without actually looking at him. He seemed tired. They all were tired. At this rate, would they even make it to Denerim? 

Hoping none of the templars present would jump to the wrong conclusions, Solona started casting. She started with a simple healing spell, blue light comforting and familiar. Holding onto the thread, she added a Rejuvenating and Regeneration spell. She twirled the separate magicks, turning it into a glowing ethereal ball, lines of color rippling through it.

At some point, the leaders had stopped talking to watch her work. Many seemed confused but Solona could pick out Wynne smiling.

Solona handed the ball to the armored man next to her. “Pass it along,” she said, scarcely recognizing the worn voice as her own. 

As the magic moved amongst the leaders, the change was visible. Color returned to tired skin, backs straightened, and they began to allude a sense of hope. The ball returned to Solona and she stopped the magic from entering her. It was about two-thirds as large as it had been. Without a thought, she tossed it to a nearby common soldier. He caught it, surprised, then grinned, throwing it to someone else. 

Laughter rose in the direction the ball had went. Solona allowed herself a smile and faced the group. “We can do this.”

It was a simple speech, as speeches went, but the men and women nodded, a return in energy giving their movements strength. They went back to their discussion of strategy, and Solona decided that she wasn’t really needed here. It was a formality more than anything. She would rather be with her friends. 

As she turned to leave, a hand stopped her. It quickly pulled away and a familiar warm presence was suddenly at her side.

“Walk with me?”

“Don’t you need to be at the meeting?”

Alistair waved off her concerns. “Eamon will tell me what I need to know later.”

She nodded hesitantly and they set off. Solona had no idea if they were actually going anywhere. _What was in this direction?_

“Will you at least talk to me? I can never guess what’s going on in that head of yours.” He sounded sad, forlorn. She shouldn’t have avoided him. It never did make the issues go away, however much she liked to pretend otherwise. 

“I’m sorry.” The words were hard to say, they weren’t enough, but it’s all she could offer.

Alistair smiled slightly. “And what are you sorry for?”

Solona wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m sorry for asking you to sleep with someone you dislike. I’m sorry for not holding you afterwards. I just…” That’s when her words ran out. 

“Solona, you don’t need to apologize. You did what you thought was best. I may not have… liked being with Morrigan but if it means saving both our lives, it was worth it. It doesn’t change anything for me and… I hope it doesn’t for you.”

For the first time in two days, she met his gaze. _Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up._

His hand was on her arm, soft and barely touching her skin. He didn’t want to alarm her. She took a shaky breath and reached out, fingers firmly enlacing with his.

She laughed slightly, looking at their hands. _How could she stay away from this man?_ Solona smiled, unease sliding away with unsaid emotion. 

“I love you, Alistair.”

The Warden laughed and pulled her closer. “Well that was easy. I had composed some poetry, bad poetry to be sure… Maybe I’ll save it for after this is over.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and on impulse she tugged him down for a kiss. 

As always, they melded together perfectly, two puzzle pieces finally joined. A flash of heat passed through her and she pulled him closer. He responded, tongue darting out to gently traced her bottom lip. Solona moaned softly, causing Alistair to laugh as the world righted itself once more.

Gentle smiles as they pulled away, Solona blushing slightly. They might not survive the upcoming fight, she wasn’t so naïve to think they’d make it out unscathed, but at least they were together again. She could accept that.


	46. Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

“This way!” Captain Fields yelled, their small troop darting between skirmishes. Solona cast a Torrent in front of them, shocking darkspawn and clearing a path. She was trying to be sparing with her magic, the dwarves brought only so many lyrium potions with them and the Circle Mages got the majority, but there were just so many darkspawn… and so many wounds to heal. 

Nearby, Leliana and Sten took down an ogre and Morrigan froze whole genlocks stiff. Alistair stood in front of a group of mages, protecting them as they let loose a storms of fireballs and lightning. 

“Captain!” Solona yelled, stepping back as a hurlock launched itself at her. The soldiers closed in ranks, shields up. The hurlock fell, dark blood staining the ground. “We need to get back to the gate.”

The captain parried a blow from a darkspawn and the soldier next to him finished it. “Agreed.”

Their group ran back to the gate. Oghren and Zevran along with several squads of dwarves formed a living wall to keep more darkspawn from entering. But they were taking losses quickly. Zevran bled from a wound on his leg and Oghren seemed a bit tipsier than usual. Solona sent a light wave of healing towards them, knowing they didn’t really need it but unable to leave her friends in pain. 

Slaying the last darkspawn in their immediate area, Alistair jogged over. “Status report?” Fields saluted then paused, unsure if that was the right action. 

“Ser… the area around the gate has been cleared. Over a third our forces have entered the city proper while the rest guard against the horde outside. And… Riordan is dead. Our men saw him take on the archdemon, but he fell to his death in the process. The archdemon is injured and trapped on Fort Drakon.”

Alistair nodded, resting his sword in the dirt. “Right. We’ll need to split up. One group will defend the gate while the other will travel with Solona and myself to defeat the archdemon. We need to move fast so it will have to be a small one.” He looked over their party. “Thank you for everything you all have done. We wouldn’t have gotten this far without every one of you.”

Solona moved forward so her arm brushed against his. “Wynne, since I am going in one group, you should probably stay so they have healing.” The Senior Enchantress nodded. 

“Leliana, I want you to stay behind to pick them off with your bow. Oghren, I trust you to take care of anything that comes through the gate,” Alistair continued.

The dwarf grinned. “Those bloody nug-humpers won’t stand a chance.”

“Zevran, I won’t ask you to leave Leliana. Just… watch out for each other, okay?” Solona met the assassin’s golden eyes and he grinned. 

“I will remind them why the Crows are feared across Thedas.”

“Sten,” Alistair hefted up his sword. “I know you have military experience so I leave you in charge. Please try to keep everyone safe and protect our backs. We’re counting on you.”

The large Qunari crossed his arm over his chest, a curiously human gesture. “Understood.”

“Morrigan and Archon are with us.”

The apostate laughed. “You’re bringing a dog to fight an archdemon?”

Alistair looked at Solona, a smile twitching. “Archon and I had a discussion earlier and I promised I wouldn’t leave him behind.” Solona’s own lips twisted upwards and she rubbed the mabari’s head. “Now, we need to get moving. Dragons to kill, Thedas to save, and lovely maidens to rescue.”

Solona looked over her assembled friends. _Of all the times to cry…_ “Please stay safe.” 

Wynne came forward. “Solona, I just wanted to say something to you, before I lose my chance. I’m proud of you. You’ve grown so much since you left the Circle and I look forward to seeing the person you become.”

 _Now she really was going to cry._ Solona gave the maternal woman a hug. “Thank you Wynne.”

The Enchantress smiled warmly, returning the embrace.

With that, the four of original members of their party ran into the burning city.


	47. Women May Fall When There's No Strength in Men

If she thought the other two dragons had prepared her for this, she was mistaken. The archdemon could have torn all others to shreds. They had a small group of Redcliffe men with them, yet they were still getting crushed. 

“Alistair!” Solona yelled, healing a man to his left.

“Yeah, yeah. I know! Big dragon. Got it. Morrigan! Anything?”

The apostate scowled, hurling ice spikes at darkspawn. “Since when am I the resident dragon expert?”

“Since your mother turned in to one. Do you know how to stop it?”

Muttering under her breathe, Morrigan shouted, “Solona, with me!” The two mages sprinted off, Morrigan grabbing her when she tripped over a corpse. 

“What are we going to do?” Solona asked, quickly casting a barrier around them to give them a moment to breathe. 

“Depends, how much do you have left?” 

Closing her eyes, Solona felt her mana supply. “I’m down to a third but I still have a lyrium potion left.”

“Good. That should be just enough. You channel what you have to me, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Solona nodded then paused. “Are you sure that’s healthy for the… child?”

Morrigan spared her a soft smile. “Given that at this stage it can hardly be called a child, yes. It will be fine. Less so if its mother dies from an archdemon.” 

Unable to believe she could laugh at a time like this, Solona pulled at her magic, dissolving the barrier and passing everything she had and the lyrium potion to the apostate. 

Morrigan closed her eyes, hair beginning to whip around in an unfelt wind. “I will need one minute.”

 _A minute!_ A genlock rushed at them and Solona whacked it with her staff. _She needed more lessons from Zevran_. The creature took a step back and snarled, blade flashing. It struck and she blocked the sword with her staff. Splitters flew, cutting the skin of her arms and suddenly Solona was holding two sticks. _Rogue in training._

She barely had sparks left; Morrigan had taken everything. _This was going to end badly._

“This way, darkspawn! Follow me!” Chucking one of her sticks at the creature and missing, Solona ran off. Luckily, the genlock followed. 

_Don’t trip, don’t trip. Ogre!_ She leapt over a body and glanced behind her. She had gained a following. 

“Alistair!” She recognized a suit of armor. The Warden killed his opponent and turned. 

“We discussed strays, Solona!” She ducked behind his shield and he braced himself. Not allowing herself to think about it, Solona saw a sword sticking from _not a person_ and grabbed the weapon. The expanse of metal was heavier than she thought, dragging her arms down. 

Before she had the chance to use it, something in the air changed. Alistair shifted, sensing it too. 

Morrigan’s spell had been cast. 

Energy rippled and then a huge lightning bolt struck the archdemon, stunning it. “Now!” Alistair said, “This is our chance!” What remained of their small army pushed on the darkspawn forces, charging the dragon. Solona remained in the back, holding her sword in two hands. The soldiers hacked at the dragon and Archon swung from a taloned paw. Alistair avoided a snap of overly large teeth to cut the vulnerable throat. 

_She needed to do something!_

Taking a deep, stabilizing gasp of air, she ran at a genlock, swinging the weapon she could barely lift. More startled than anything- _darkspawn could be surprised?_ -she knocked it back, not even putting a scratch on the enemy. 

_Solid but mobile position. Firm but flexible. Make Zevran proud._

The genlock lunged at her and she blocked it with the sword, falling on her butt. _She only had sparks! … That could work._ Moving back, she defended herself with her stolen blade and darted swiftly forward, hand on the genlock’s chestplate. Energy traveled through the metal knocking the darkspawn out. 

A roar shook her bones and she spun to see the archdemon flailing about, knocking the soldiers back. Alistair sprinted forward, cutting the dragon’s neck deeply, spilling blood everywhere. With an angry cry, the beast hit him with a snap of its tail, sending the Grey Warden smashing into a nearby pillar. The stone cracked and then toppled down upon the man below. Alistair cried out in pain as the large weight landed on his legs.

Solona screamed but a soldier stopped her from going to him. “Warden,” She looked at him, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. “The archdemon is weak. You need to strike now.”

Blinking back liquid, she stared at the man. He didn’t even know what he was asking. Alistair needed to be the one to kill the dragon. Else how was the taint supposed to pass to Morrigan’s unborn child? Shaking she looked back at the soldiers still baiting the thing nightmares were made of. She could barely hold a sword, how was she supposed to kill anything? But… If she didn’t, the Blight would continue and all these men would die. 

She had no choice. 

“Let’s do this,” she told the soldier, hefting the sword. He nodded sharply and together they charged. A blast of fire almost took them out, Solona diving to the side. Her companion wasn’t so lucky, screaming as he burned. _No…_ She had to keep moving. 

“Warden!” The men cheered as she got up and ran forward, what little magic she had left flying from her blade in a shower of white sparks. She shouted, barely avoiding snapping teeth. 

Solona grabbed at the dragon’s head as it passed and suddenly she was flying through the air as it tried to get dislodge of her. The sword was somehow still in her hands, dangerously close to her chest as she held on to the dragon’s ear. In a brief pause, she pulled herself up to the top of the head, muscles screaming at her. All she needed to do was to push the blade through the brains and the dragon would be dead, the Blight over. She might be dead too. _It was her or everyone else._ Gripping the sides of the neck with her knees, Solona placed the sword point into the skin of the beast. 

The archdemon yelled its rage, trying to shake her off. Solona bent low, grabbing at spikes to keep from falling. 

“Solona! Don’t!”

 _I’m sorry,_ Alistair, Solona thought and then throwing all her weight into it, drove the sword into the archdemon. Energy shot though her, frying nerve endings… and all went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was anyone else amused when their Mage Warden went all epic? Had they even held a sword before? I'm pretending my version is more realistic.


	48. The Valiant Never Taste of Death But Once

Alistair coughed in the sudden stillness, pain from his legs making it hard to think straight. There had been a burst of light and a dust cloud and now… _Solona._

He shoved at the rock pinning the bottom half of his body. It refused to budge. Curses he had heard but never said came to his lips, battering against his teeth. _Solona was… she couldn’t be._

“Ser Alistair!” Some of Arl Eamon’s men ran over to him, positioning themselves around the large stone. With a heave, they pushed it away from him. Alistair groaned as more pain shot through his system. His legs had to be broken. One of them barely looked like a leg anymore, red matter staining the ground around it. Alistair swallowed and forced himself to glance away, bile lingering in his throat. It might not be healable. 

“Is Sol… is Warden Amell okay?” He asked, trying to keep calm. 

“We don’t know ser. Our men are searching for her. But ser, the darkspawn have retreated. They are fleeing the city.”

Alistair found this good news wasn’t enough to make him smile. “I’m glad. Now help me up.”

“But you shouldn’t…”

“Help. Me. Up.”

Two of the soldiers got underneath his arms, hoisting him to his feet. Alistair managed to muffle his cry as raw agony shot through his shattered limb. He closed his eyes for a second, composing himself. His chances of keeping his leg weren’t going to improve if he moved. 

Something things were more important. 

“Let’s go help look.”

Shuffling forward at an excruciatingly slow pace, the three men approached the archdemon. The dragon was sprawled out, almost as if it wanted to prove that even in death it could take over the world. Armored soldiers searched the body, looking for any trace of the Warden who had slain it. Archon sniffed at the corpse, whining slightly. Even the Witch prowled the edge of the beast, poking fallen soldiers with her staff. 

Alistair glared at the scene, terror and pain mixing into anger. He should have been the one to kill the archdemon. The ritual was almost guaranteed to work for him. Morrigan was unsure about the radius of the spell if someone else performed the Warden’s duty. _If Solona had… No,_ he couldn’t think about that. _She had to be alive. She had to be._

A shout had Alistair stumbling forward, soldiers rushing to support his weight. 

“I’ve found her!” A man yelled, tugging on the dragon’s wing. More people rushed forward to help him, lifting the dark flap of skin. A small figure lay beneath it, damp with dragon blood and dust. 

His people pushed the crowd aside and lowered Alistair to the ground next to her. He barely noticed that his legs seemed to be on fire, instead gently pulling the brown-haired mage into his arms. He had forgotten how little and thin she was. Like a fragile doll. 

Running a hand down her cheek, Alistair felt for a pulse. Nothing. He waited, refusing to believe that she was gone. _Please Solona, it wasn’t supposed to end like this._

Seconds passed.

 _There!_ A slight pressure against his fingertips. Alistair laughed. _She was alive!_ She was so pale and seemed to have trouble breathing, but she was alive. 

“Does anyone have an elfroot potion or healing experience?” He asked the assembled group of soldiers. Several seconds later a cracked glass bottle filled with red liquid found its way into his hand. Ever so carefully, he placed the edge in between Solona’s lips, pouring some of the liquid in. A pause and she started coughing, hand going to her chest with a wince. Alistair took her hand in his own as she took a deep breath, color entering her white cheeks. 

She was going to be alright.

He forced himself to look away for a moment so the tears wouldn’t overflow even though the only thing he wanted to do was memorize her features. The Witch was walking away from them, a small bag thrown over her shoulder.

“Morrigan!” She paused at his voice, turning slightly in his direction. “Thank you.”

The Witch pursed her lips, voice carrying easily over the roof of the tower. “'Twas not for you.” Her eyes trailed down to the woman in his arms and she seemed to soften slightly. “But… you are welcome. I do not know what she sees in you, but you better continue to make her happy, Alistair.”

Alistair made a face at her. “Witch.”

“Fool.” If Alistair didn’t know her better, he would have almost sworn that she smiled at him but then Solona shifted in his arms and his attention was diverted. When he remembered to look back up, she was gone. For the moment, Alistair couldn’t bring himself to care. He touched his forehead to Solona’s, feeling her soft breaths against his mouth. _She is alive. That’s all that matters._


	49. Journeys End in Lovers' Meeting

“I’m not turning into a dragon,” Solona said laughing as the crowds roared around them.

“You never know. Maybe you’ll sprout wings and be able to control darkspawn,” Alistair said, waving with one arm while holding on to the mage with the other. She grinned at him, knowing exactly what he was doing. He was trying to distract her from dying of embarrassment as the people shouted her name, praising the Grey Wardens. Her face couldn’t possibly be any hotter, but at least she hadn't combusted like she might have before she left the Circle.

She squeezed her love’s hand and his smile gentled. “How about we go back to our friends? The people have seen you, you’ve done your duty. Besides, I know your number-one fan would love to meet his Hero in private.”

Solona wondered if it was healthy to have this much blood pooling in her face. “Please don’t call me that. You and the rest of the army deserve that title just as much as me.”

They stepped out of sight of the mass of people, entering the palace once more. Alistair pulled her to the side, cupping her face in his large hands. She nuzzled her cheek into them, warm emotions growing in her chest.

“You were willing to risk your life to save Ferelden and Thedas from the Blight. We all played a part in that, but you did the deed.” The Warden grinned, kissing her gently. “My warrior mage.”

Solona blushed harder, looking down at his chest. Her love laughed, hugging her. “So, what should we do next?”

Happiness making her bold, she traced the griffon detailed onto his chestplate. “I have a few ideas.” 

Alistair chuckled, voice low. “I do too. But whatever will we do if we miss the party? All those nobles wanting the ‘gory’ details of our quest. I think I might cry.” He didn’t pull away as she stood on tippy-toes, lips pressing to his. “Then again, I am a Warden, we are a rather tough breed. Perhaps I’ll survive it.” Solona took his hand in hers, feeling the callused palm. Her thoughts drifted off.

“Alistair?”

“Yes, dear lady?”

“It feels strange to have a future.”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

She met his eyes, holding his hand to her chest. “The Blight is over. Our lives are in front of us and… we can do whatever we want. I don’t have to live my life in the Circle. I… can spend it with you… wherever you go. If… that’s…”

Solid, soft skin merged with hers and her feet suddenly left the ground. “Of course,” Alistair whispered against her lips before setting her back down. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. You and me, rebuilding the Grey Wardens. It’s… what Duncan would have wanted I think.”

Solona smiled. “Back to the party then?”

Alistair groaned. “For now. But I’m planning on keeping you all to myself tonight, so no banquets, or speeches, or prancing nobles. Even if they do have fancy cheese.”

She grinned. “Alright.”

And it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thank you to everyone who read, kudoed, or commented on this work! You are the best! This was my first fanfic, my baby, and without you guys I don't know if I could have made it through those rebellious teenage years... 
> 
> If you have any thoughts or critiques, I'd love to hear them! 
> 
> If not, well, go eat a cookie and read some more fanfic. That's what I'm going to do. :D


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